


Pull Me Up (destiel au)

by basicallyallthefandoms



Category: Dean and Cas - Fandom, Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:11:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 91,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6610276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basicallyallthefandoms/pseuds/basicallyallthefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean just lost his brother Sam and has no way of coping with it. He's already lost his mother, father and the only man he'd ever known as a real dad.... He's completely broken until Castiel comes to pull him up.</p><p>*I would also just like to add a disclaimer that there are certain professions addressed in the book that I don't have a vast knowledge on, but I used what I do have to incorporate it into the story, and apologize if any of it is false or incorrect :) enjoy!!!*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THIS STORY IS ALSO ON WATTPAD UNDER THE USERNAME JEKYLLANDSTRIDE  
> just in case you prefer a mobile platform/app :)

I don't quite know what I was expecting the day he died.

Maybe dark clouds overhead, rain pouring on the city, thunder rumbling the earth.

But it was just as it had been for the past weeks; quiet, peaceful and sunny. The only clouds white, plush cotton. So I pulled the curtains together and acted like the world outside wasn't bright and carrying on.

I didn't know how to react either, and I couldn't pinpoint how I was reacting naturally. I'd pictured devastation taking me over, the inability to sleep or speak. I thought my sadness would drive me to insanity.

But there was nothing. No feeling; no emotion. All I had was a heavy weight on my chest, in my throat. It was hard to breathe, but... there was no sickness turning my stomach, no tears burning my eyes.

I'd slept countless hours over the past days, unable to dream but also unable to fall deeply asleep. I always only brushed the surface when I slept, never quite getting to escape. The lingering knowledge that my brother was gone was like a dam looming over me, threatening to burst at any moment and yet... I couldn't quite find the ability to care.

I knew Ellen, bless her soul, was planning the funeral and had asked my opinions on any songs I wanted played or urns and I'd tried to be sincere, really I did but it didn't matter the type of vase his ashes would remain in. Sam wouldn't have cared if he was put in a shoe box.

Jo tried to get me to talk or show any emotion, too, but she understood. She knew I wasn't up for anything and she knew I couldn't talk. So when Ellen asked her to come check on me, she'd let me sleep while she sat on the edge of the bed, sometimes rubbing my back, other times playing with my hair. Whether she knew it or not she helped, she made me feel safer.

One day, I don't remember how long it'd been, she came in with food, like she would every morning and sat near my pillows. I actually turned to look at her today, rolling over so I could see her.

"Hi, Dean," she said softly, putting a hand to my forehead, probably to check if I had a fever again. I must not have because she pulled it back to her lap.

"Hey, Jo," I tried to smile but knew I'd failed. She tried to hide her sadness by not meeting my eyes.

"Dean..." she started.

"Don't," I interrupted softly. "Please, I just... I can't right now. I'm not hungry, so tell your mom I'll try later."

"That's not what this is about," she shook her head, taking my hand in hers. "Dean, it's almost been a week... you have to help us with funeral plans-"

"I can't, Jo, I really ca-"

"We can't do it without your input, okay? I think this would really be a good way to ease you into the fact that Sam's gone," she said, swallowing as she finally looked at my face. I furrowed my eyebrows when she said it, not feeling the extra pang in my chest as I'd expected. I continued to remain numb, unaware still. "You should get up, shower, at least drink some water or something," she shook her head. "I promise it'll help you feel better, okay? At least a little," she touched my cheek and stood, turning to leave.

"Jo," I called hoarsely, waiting for her to turn back and sitting up. She looked at me hopefully. "I'll get up," I nodded. "But I don't know how much I can help," I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked down. "But I'll try."

She smiled a small victory grin and nodded, answering, "Dean, that's all we want." After that she closed the door and I heard her receding footsteps.

I sighed deeply and ran my hands over my face. I couldn't find the ambition to do what I'd promised as I sat in bed when finally I turned to my bedside table.

There was a picture of Sam and I on it, smiling and drinking beers. Bobby must have taken the picture. My mind was processing the emotions I should've been feeling as I scanned his face.

I hadn't been able to picture it in my mind while I laid down, and I was too scared to look at it, for fear of the depression I'd been awaiting to come. But now as I looked at it I knew it wasn't right of me to ignore Jo or Ellen while they kept themselves composed.

So, albeit reluctantly, I stood on weak legs and started for the bathroom. I didn't want to glance up at the mirror while I passed by it, but I did and I saw the mess of hollowed cheeks, stubble and sunken eyes that I was. I felt physically exhausted despite not even mustering the courage to leave my bedroom for almost a week, and I looked it, too.

Finally, after watching the shadow of the man I'd become in a few mere days, I turned on the shower and undressed, stepping in before feeling it heat up. At first it was cold, and it hit me hard, feeling like I'd been doused in ice, but it gradually warmed up and I almost savored the feel of the goosebumps as they went away, glad that my body was still able to feel and react.

I showered for a long time, most of it just standing under the heat, knowing my body would be glowing red since it was so hot. When it finally began to fade I stepped out and shook out my hair, drying off. I didn't want to, but I stepped forward to the sink and began to shave my face. It was less satisfying than I thought it would be.

When I finished going through the motions that should have taken me only 10 minutes, I sat, almost an hour later on my bed again, this time wearing not pajamas, but jeans and flannel, like I usually did. My breath was minty, and I took a deep breath to feel the cold of the air filling my lungs just as there was a knock on my door. I knew it was Ellen.

I knew Jo must have told her that I was better, so I let the breath out slowly and opened the door, almost being knocked over by a woman almost a foot shorter than me. I couldn't process her touch, and I didn't want to. I didn't want to know that I had hurt Ellen these past few days and I didn't want to remember why I was hurting her in the first place, so I followed my intuition and hugged her back, tightening my hold while she rubbed my back.

She pulled away first, reaching up to hold my face in her hands. There were tears in her eyes and she smiled softly. "Honey, you look better," she said. I noticed that she specified better instead of good, and she was right. I didn't look good. I looked ghastly to say the least and I didn't like the fact that I did, but I couldn't help it. So I just nodded and held her shoulders while she kept looking at me.

Finally, she sighed, "Well... Judy will be here any minute and I know she'll wanna see you," she turned around and grabbed my hand, leading me to follow behind her, walking on shaky legs and narrowing my eyes a bit in the light.

I sat quietly at the table in the library, where she'd led me and watched her as she brought me a slice of pie. "I know you probably don't want to... but honey, you gotta eat, okay?" she nodded, placing a two mugs beside it. "One is coffee and the other is water. You look like you need both."

I peered over the edges and picked up the coffee first, letting it burn down my throat and warm my chest. She sat across from me and took my hands in hers. "I'm guessing Jo told you we'd like some help with the funeral?"

I pulled my hands back and simply nodded, responding, "Yeah, she told me."

Ellen looked down and said, "Well we've saved one arrangement just for you to work on and it involves working with someone else, okay?" I nodded, figuring it would be inevitable to avoid everyone except them at this point. "It's two things really... where you want the service and what you'd like to do after. Now, I know you probably won't want to do much, but you gotta, sweetheart and Jo and I were thinking it could be something super simple like just going to brunch with the few of us." She met my eyes and waited for a response, so I gave a small nod. "We have a funeral director, and he's incredibly sweet, so I'm sure you'll be just fine while Jo and I go to the crematorium," I close my eyes and feel my fist clench. "Judy will be here if you need anything."

"Are we going somewhere?" I ask her.

"Yes, you're going to lunch today," she said simply. As if it was the most natural thing in the universe.

"Today?" I looked at her, furrowing my eyebrows. "I don't want to go today."

"Sweetheart, you have to leave the house someday, so it might as well be today, right?"

"No, not right," I shook my head. "I really am not feeling good."

"And I get that, Dean, but Jo and I are hurting, too. We've been carrying most of the weight here. Jo and I had to go identify the body and decide whether we wanted him buried or not. We're the ones who have been making arrangements and calling close family and friends," she finally said. "You can go to lunch with the director, okay?" she pushed, looking up at me with her maternal stare.

"Okay," I conceded, figuring it would be a burden to go but over quick. "When and where?"

"Well, I've arranged for him to come pick you up so it won't be too hard for you. He'll be here around eleven thirty so you have around an hour, okay, sweetie?" she asked, her eyes wide as she grabbed my hand again.

"Yeah," I whispered. "Okay."

I didn't eat the pie and I didn't say a word as she and Jo left. I didn't want to have to deal with this or face the outside world. I wanted to remain in my room, where six days had felt like six years. Where it was just another night that I could ignore the fact that my brother was gone. That the only family I'd had left had abandoned me and left no note, no reason. That he wasn't coming back, ever.

I left the table, going into the bathroom where I couldn't help but be sick. I emptied my stomach into the toilet and wiped my mouth. I stood and rinsed my mouth, brushing my teeth again.

The doorbell rang.

I ignored it and walked to my room. I could feel the pull of my bed, wanting to sink back into it again.

It rang again.

I sat on the edge, my stomach turning now for some reason. I knew that if I approached this situation I would only feel worse. I could deal with a queasy stomach, but I knew I couldn't deal with the rest of the mourning stages.

Losing dad and Bobby were the hardest things I'd ever experienced.

With Sam I knew it would be worse. I knew I wouldn't be able to look at anyone without remembering him. I wouldn't be able to glance in the mirror without seeing eyes that mimicked his own.

It would be better to not face anything at all.

Easier to remain in the background of all the plans and ignore the people who tried to pull me out of the hole I'd dug myself into.

But none of this was easy, and I couldn't let Jo and Ellen carry all Sam's weight and my own. So I made myself stand up on the third ring of the bell.

I made my legs move forward to the door and I made myself unbolt it.

Then, although every fiber of my being was telling me to turn around and go back to bed, I opened the door to reveal the man Ellen had been talking about.

I looked up to see a rumbled, dark haired man panting, with his trench coat half on his body, his tie loose on his neck and his shirt only tucked in on one side. "Hello," he said, out of breath. "Are you aware that... you have some wild dogs in your neighborhood?" he asked, leaning over to rest a hand on his knee.

"Uhm... yes?" I answered cautiously.

"They chased me," his voice cracked and his eyes held a smile. He breathed in one last loud breath and stood higher, looking up to see me. Immediately his posture was more rigid and professional as he held out his hand. "Hello," he shook my hand and the man's smile faded. "I'm Castiel Novak. I'm sorry for your loss."


	2. chapter 2

I didn't talk much in the car, aside from a few short answers to relieve myself of talking to the funeral director. He was incredibly nice and for his job, a little too funny, but I didn't really mind. It was a change of pace for me to think something was funny although I didn't laugh.

"Anyways, how are you feeling? I know this is hard, especially since Samuel was your brother," Castiel asked softly, starting up the small talk on a topic I was far from interested in talking about.

"I'm fine," I answered, just as quietly as he had asked if not more.

"Okay," he said back, pressing his lips together and pulling over to the side of the road just down the block from where the small cafe they would be eating at was. Well, he would be eating at. I got out of the car without making any attempt to talk to him.

I figured he would try again and when the time came I would eventually have to answer him. But for now I remained silent, watching him out of the corner of my eye to predict the nature of his next question. He turned out to be incredibly hard to read, so I gave up and looked back to the sidewalk in front of me.

The streets were uncharacteristically crowded for a Thursday afternoon and I tried to hide my discomfort.

"Not fond of crowds?" Castiel asked, the keys hooked to his briefcase clicking as it hit his hip. I glanced at it to see only a few keys and an abundance of key chains. I shook my head. "Yeah, I'm not either," he shrugged. 

Although I'd promised myself I wouldn't initiate conversation, I was curious. "Don't lots of people come to funerals sometimes?"

He turned, stuffing his hands in his pockets and answering smoothly, "Yes. Most of the funerals I work with have at least fifty people attending, which doesn't seem like that many on the surface, but they tend to have their services in quite small rooms or chapels." He shrugged, letting out a breath through his nose. "It's alright though, I'm not feeling worse than they are, and I actually like it when a lot of people comes. It makes me happy to know that their family or friend, or whomever they were there for, was loved."

There was a noticeable difference in my answer compared to his and it was the fact that he didn't know when to stop talking.

"Oh," I replied about thirty seconds late while we rounded the corner to enter the shop in the center of the strip mall.

Upon entering I could tell that the cafe was a local establishment because there were only two people working, and the woman cooking the food was the same one serving it. The man behind the counter was younger than the woman, probably her son, and was working the line of eager customers with ease.

In the midst of my awestruck observing, I felt a hand between my shoulders and let Castiel lead me to a small table in the corner of the shop. "Have you never been here before?" he asked quietly, folding his hands on the table. I shook my head, looking around to see the brick walls and the indie paintings clattered amongst them. "It's a cute place," I looked back to him and he was looking up at the dream catcher hanging from the ceiling. "That's new," he told me, looking back down to meet my eyes with a small smile on his face. He seemed to just have a grin etched into his features, and based on his smile lines, I guessed it was just his personality.

Or part of his job.

I nodded, rubbing a hand over my mouth and letting it fall back to my lap, folded over the other one. "Do you want anything? I'll go get it, you can sit," he offered, standing to go to the line. I shook my head and he pressed gently, "Are you sure?"

I hesitated, but politely asked for a water and he nodded, continuing to walk away. Subconsciously, I reached to my pocket for my cell phone, feeling it pressed against my thigh. I didn't quite remember grabbing it before I left, but to be honest I frankly didn't remember getting showered or dressed this morning either. I cautiously pulled it out and saw Sammy and I as my background.

My stomach began to churn.

My fingers were working over the screen before I really had time to think about what I was doing, and then my phone was pressed to my ear. It didn't ring, but instead went straight to a familiar voice.

"Hey, this is Sam Winchester. Sorry I couldn't get to the phone, but I'll call you back as soon as possible. Thanks!"

I blinked once after hearing it and set the phone to rest on the table, open to Sammy's contact. The profile picture was of him with tears streaming down his face after eating a ghost pepper, giving the camera a thumbs up. I remembered the day perfectly and pressed the call back button.

I listened to it again.

And again twice over.

Then Castiel came back and set a water bottle in front of me, and a coffee in front of himself. "Alright, so- woah, hey are you alright?" he asked, concern changing his features from easygoing to worried in a split second.

"What?" I asked, and he put a finger by his eye. I lifted my hand to my eye and blinked to feel the burning of tears behind them. I shook my head and cleared my throat, "Yeah, I told you, I'm fine."

He nodded quickly and replaced his furrowed brows with the smile again. Then again maybe it was more a job thing than a personality trait. I dismissed it as he dismissed my watery eyes and moved on. 

"So, we need to discuss the location of the service, and really that depends on whether you want it in a chapel or a funeral home. I've had people want the service at a church and the reception in a home, so it is entirely up to you," he nodded, pulling a schedule from his case. He clicked his pen and moved to the note section, ready for my answer.

"Uh..." I was at a complete loss. I didn't know what Sam would have wanted, or if he would have even cared. "What... do you think is best for a smaller service?" I ended up asking. It was true, we were only planning on having Ellen, Jo, me, Judy and Gunther attending.

"Well, I'd personally say a home, just because they offer a wider variety of selections, but with a chapel it will be larger, and there's always the possibility of random strangers coming in to pray or do something in the church," he explained, then moved to chew to back of his pen. His fingers tapped thoughtfully on the surface of the table and I watched them, wondering why he was so anxious or impatient. "Mr. Winchester?" he asked. I snapped back up to look at him and coughed.

"Sorry... um, okay, the home sounds good then," I answered, nodding. "Would we be able to have the reception there as well?" the less I had to do that day the better.

"Well," he began pulling a binder from his leather case and opened it to show me. "That depends on the home you choose. I work with this one," he tapped his pen on a picture of a home called Family First and continued, "but you can choose whichever you like."

I couldn't help but mutter sarcastically, "Family First," as I flipped through the pages. "Does that one have smaller rooms?"

Castiel cleared his throat and rested his head on his hand, leaning over to look at the binder with me. "Well, yes," he said. "But if you aren't fond of crowds, I would honestly go with a more average sized room than a small one, because you never know what it will be like that day. You could be more susceptible to claustrophobia or have a panic attack. Even though there won't be many people, a small room will make it seem like more." He sat back down and added, "As an employee I'm required to tell you- and I quote- 'At Family First we offer a variety of services, suited to your every need' but to tell you the truth, our rooms happen to run a little small, so the largest room you could reserve would probably be the size of an average room at the Water Springs Funeral Home," he shrugged. "A regular room there is cheaper than a large room at Family First."

"Okay..." I answered, not entirely engaged in the discussion, not that I could be considering.

"I know this isn't exactly stimulating, or easy to talk about for that matter, but that's what I'm here for, okay? If you want, I can just get you the best deal and you can tell me a date and time, then we can sit in silence," he offered, folding his hands in front of him again.

He was fidgety.

But his offer sounded sincere, and I honestly was not in the mood to talk about where I wanted to hear some ignorant pastor talk about what a guy my dead brother is.

Was.

"That would be incredible," I ended up answering too late, but he didn't seem to mind as he smiled and gave me a questioning look. "Oh, I don't know. Is Saturday okay?" I offered, saying the first date that popped into my head. "Like, 2pm ish, I guess?"

"That's fine, I'll set it up and let you know to confirm," he nodded, closing his binder and shoving it back into the bag. He whipped a business card onto the table and slid it to me along with a pen. "Just jot down the best way to get a hold of you, whether it's email, phone, anything."

I scribbled my phone number and name onto the paper, excluding Winchester, because hearing him call me Mr. Winchester had set off another stomach turning.

I was now the last Winchester of my entire family. I was and always would be the last. I wouldn't have kids to pass the name to and Sam wasn't here to anymore. Finally, I slid it back to him, setting the pen beside it and taking a drink of the cold water.

"Do you want to sit for a while or would you prefer for me to take you home?" he asked.

I wanted to go home, insanely badly. I wanted to slip into fleece pajama pants and crawl back into my bed. I wanted to be in the dark again and have silence instead of the indistinct chatter of the people behind me. I wanted an empty house instead of a full restaurant. But I knew Ellen and Jo would be back and if I was back too soon they'd think I ditched out on the responsibilities they'd assigned to me.

So I took a deep breath and said, "I guess we can just sit."

"Alright," Castiel nodded, not seeming to have had a preference as to which option I chose. "I notice that you seem a little spaced out," he commented. I lifted my eyes to see what he meant. He rushed into an explanation. "Which is a totally natural, perfectly normal reaction to the death of a loved one-"

I put a hand to my mouth and he stopped short. I could feel bile rising in my throat and I put up a hand to stop him from continuing. I heard him suck in a gasp and then a hand rubbing my back. He must have moved his chair to come comfort me.

I had half the mind to be irritated that he was touching me and the other to be extremely comforted by it. I'd never liked the idea of being touched, but when it happened I always felt calmer, and he obviously knew what he was doing, since talking to sad people was basically his job.

On a normal day I would have cracked a joke to Sammy about his level of unprofessionalism and he would've snorted and rolled his eyes. But today I made the joke in my head and thought of Sam's laugh instead. It helped me to tame my stomach for a moment before I remembered that I would never hear his laugh again.

This time I didn't feel like I was going to be sick but my hands started shaking and Castiel immediately stood, slung his bag over his shoulder and held my arm to pull me from the seat, grabbing my water before he walked us out.

Once we were out of the crowded building and the cold air hit me, I was finally able to suck in a deep breath and slide down the side of the building and press my hands to my face. Castiel knelt beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder, able to ground me while I let whatever this was pass. Finally, when my breathing was more regulated I looked up and saw him watching me with a sympathetic look on his face.

I moved to stand, but he pushed the water bottle in my face and told me to drink. I did, figuring he knew how to stop this or at least help calm me down. After I chug some of the water, he offers me his hand to help me up.

I take it.

We walk in silence until we reach his silver car. When we got inside he turned to me before starting it. "Mr. Winchester-"

"Dean," I corrected. "Please."

"Dean," he repeated. "I just want you to know that this response is completely normal-"

"Castiel, please, please don't," I begged. "Talking about this right now is really not going to solve much in my case except maybe the fact that I haven't thrown up yet. And I'd rather not do that," I told him.

"Yes, I'd rather you not do that in my car," he added, a small smirk playing at his lips. "I understand Mr- Dean. I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

We drove the rest of the way home without so much as a murmur and when he pulled up to the bunker Sam and I lived in, he said, "I'll call to confirm the room reservation," he explained. "I usually like to attend the funerals I direct. If you don't mind...?" he left room for me to refuse to let him come, and I almost did. But then I remembered how comforting he was today, and I knew that he could be helpful, especially because I knew Judy and Gunther would be messes.

"Yes, that's fine," I said, meeting his eyes while I opened my car door.

"I'll see you soon, Dean," he said when I leaned back into the car to bid him farewell.

"Goodbye, Castiel," I returned, then practiced self control so I wouldn't sprint back to my room.


	3. chapter 3

I spent the rest of the night and the next day in my room, laying under the covers, not even having the energy to get up and get a beer like I wanted to. In a way I knew that was good because it would be bad for me to drink away whatever grief I was about losing Sammy. So instead I just stared at the walls, turning them down or away from me so I didn't have to see his smile.

All it did was remind me that I wasn't there for him when he needed me. I wasn't there when he was struggling so hard with his heroin addiction and I wasn't there when he was clean. I ignored the problem and acted like he would be fine, because I'd believed he would be. I knew that he was a strong kid and could get through whatever it was that he was going through.

He never talked to me about it either. We both knew he was struggling and neither of us would address it out loud. I knew he needed my help and he pleaded for it silently, all the nights he would shoot up in his room alone, all the nights I listened through the wall as his head hit it when he finally had his fix. As I laid in my room, thinking about those late nights I closed my eyes, knowing I would rather have him here right now, throwing up and shivering as sweat dripped down his face as he tried to get clean than have him at the crematorium, burnt to nothing with all the shit still in his system.

I turned and buried my face in my pillow. He had been too young to die. Only 22 years old. He was too bright and full of life. He had been at least. Before some of his stupid college "friends" convinced him to shoot up one night. He thought he had self control. He thought he could just get a a fix once and never need it again. I thought he could, too. But we were both wrong and now he isn't here to admit his fault and I'm not with him to apologize for not helping him.

My phone buzzed against my night stand, breaking me from my thoughts. I sighed into the pillow. As I kept breathing into it I imagined what it would be like if I could smother myself. If I could end this before I got too deep into the mess of losing Sammy to the point where I couldn't get out. I push my face into it deeper, knowing less and less oxygen was entering my body.

My phone buzzed again and I stayed still, not daring to see who was calling me. Ellen or Jo probably. They'd left me alone all night and day, knowing that going out was too much for me. I appreciated it from them. I wouldn't know what to do if they'd try to get me out.

Finally when I couldn't breathe at all, my body pulled itself to sit up and sucked in a deep breath. My phone stopped making noise. Thank God.

I didn't know what to do. My thoughts seemed to be crawling through my brain so slow that I couldn't identify one from another. Most of my thoughts were sad.

I'd actually felt tears rolling down my face as I laid there early this morning when I heard birds chirping. There'd been a cluttering of spoons on pans and forks on plates while Jo and Ellen ate breakfast, and they burned my eyes and my cheeks. I didn't want to feel the sadness pouring from me and I didn't want to address the fact that I was actually feeling that lump in my throat. So I just let it happen as if it wasn't happening.

My phone began to buzz again and finally, out of pure irritation I groaned and answered it.

"Hello?" I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face and pinching the bridge of my nose as the headache worked its way into my eyes.

"Hi, Mr. Win- uh- Dean?" a man's voice asked. I shook my head and pulled the phone back to look at the caller ID, seeing a number I didn't recognize this.

"Who is this?" I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Oh, this is Castiel? Castiel Novak, I met with you yesterday?" he specified. Oh.

"Oh! Yes, hi, Castiel, uh, what's up?"

"Well, I just wanted to inform you that the service is reserved at Water Spring for 2pm tomorrow. That was the correct date and time, yes?" he asked, and I could hear the rustling of him opening his schedule in the background.

"Yep, that's... that's just fine," I nodded, despite the fact that he couldn't see me. "Thanks, Castiel."

"Of course," he said distractedly. There was a moment of silence and just before I was about to say goodbye he spoke again. "How are you feeling? Since... yesterday?"

I furrowed my eyebrows and sat back down on the bed. I couldn't quite identify the emotions I was feeling today. I was no longer numb as I had been the past week, but I definitely wasn't getting the brute of sadness as I felt I would. I settled on a simple answer. "Sad," I said, looking down at my left hand.

"Yeah, I figured you would be..." he cleared his throat. "Well, Dean, I just wanted to tell you that what you experienced yesterday was a panic attack. It is not uncommon in people who have lost a loved one," he told me. "If you ever need help with coping mechanisms or anything like that, I have a degree in psychology, I can always help you with steps to help them get better..."

He left the offer open, and I knew he was being genuine. He seemed like the type of guy who was too invested in his job. Too sympathetic to the people that he worked with. "You have a degree in psychology?" was the only response I seemed able to utter. I don't know why, maybe to turn the attention from myself. I didn't want to talk more and I knew that I had told myself I wouldn't initiate conversation, but this seemed like one of those rare times where it would be easier to start a new topic than to continue on the route we'd started on.

"I- oh, yes, I do," he answered, sounding confused.

"You don't seem old enough," I murmured, leaning my elbow on my knee.

He chuckled, "Well, I am."

"Okay," I responded.

"Okay..." he trailed off, probably confused with the fact that I'd asked a question and barely responded. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow at the service, then."

"Alright," I said quietly.

"Oh and Dean?" he asked before I hung up.

"Yeah."

"You should eat something," he suggested, then coughed. "Alright, til tomorrow, then."

"Bye."

I hung up and looked at my phone for a few seconds. I pulled up Sammy's number and called it again, listening to his voicemail a few times before getting the gumption to stand and walk to my door. I pushed it before I could convince myself otherwise and walked into the kitchen to see Judy sitting with a cup of coffee, speaking softly to Jo. She looked up at me and smiled.

"Dean, sweetie," she stood and before I could think twice I was rushing to meet her.

"Judy," I muttered before throwing myself into her arms. She wrapped hers around my neck quickly, and petted my hair, shushing me softly. Tears were stinging my eyes and my face crumbled as I buried it in her neck.

"Oh, honey," she sighed, thoughtfully rubbing my back as they began to pour. She started to cry at some point, too and so we stood there, clutching at each other, a crying mess. Her touch comforted me more than anyone's had. She was the one who'd been closest to Sam and I, more so than Jo or Ellen.

Finally, after we stood crying for a few minutes, she pulled back and looked at me, holding my face in her hands. She wiped my tears with her hands and kissed my forehead. Her nose was red and her face blotchy from tears. I knew I must've looked twenty times worst.

"Sweetheart," she began, pushing my hair back. "You look horrible."

I laughed a little and she smiled. It felt good to see Judy, better than I thought it would. I talked to her a little, not about Sam, but just about random things. New books I'd been reading. New books I'd been writing.

"Are you working on anything right now?" she asked. I shook my head. "Oh, well maybe that would be good for you?" her suggestion sounded more like a question and I just shrugged.

"Judy Mills!" Ellen called from the door, plastic grocery bags littering her arms. She dropped them all on the floor and raised her arms to hug Judy. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm good, Ellen, how are you?"

They exchanged small talk and somewhere in the middle of it, I retreated back to my room. The doorbell rang about half an hour later, after I'd put jeans and a gray tshirt on, and I exited to see who it was, assuming it would be Gunther.

But it was Castiel. Jo hugged him and he smiled at her. I tilted my head to the side as I continued walking into the kitchen. I stopped next to Judy, who put her hand on my back.

"Hi, Dean," Castiel smiled, leaning forward to shake my hand. I shook his and furrowed my eyebrows in question between him and Jo.

"Cas and I were friends in high school," she explained. I shook my head.

"And?" Judy pinched me and gave me a disapproving look.

"And that's why we trusted you to talk with him about the service," she said, as if it should have been honest.

"Oh," I shrugged, meeting Castiel's eyes hesitantly. He seemed to give off an aura that seemed a little too calm and put together to me, so I looked at the floor. 

"Anyways, we were planning on going out for lunch... if you'd like to join, Dean?" Jo offered, grinning wholly at me. I furrowed my eyebrows. 

There were so many reasons for me to say no, and so many reasons I didn't want to go. 

First of all, I could barely even go out to a small cafe for half an hour without having a full on panic attack. Second, I didn't even want to be around the people closest to me right now, much less Jo and her old high school friend. And finally, based on the way his hand was still lingering on Jo's back, I'd rather not be a third wheel. 

"You know what, I think... I think I'll stay back," I shrugged. "I don't really think I'm up for it today."

Jo looked down and Castiel tilted his head to the side slightly, still watching me intensely. I refused to look up and meet his eyes because I didn't trust his chilling prescence, so I kept looking at Jo until she met mine. "Dean, I really think you should come out with us," she insisted. I shook my head but she interrupted me before I could say anything. "I'm only asking for you to come eat something. We could get pie, or burgers. I just want you to come out and eat, okay? Please, Dean?"

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, "Honestly I don't want to intrude on you guys catching up, honestly I can eat at home."

Castiel let his hand drop back to his side and took a half step away from Jo, who made an exasperated noise. "You can eat at home, just like you've been eating at home for the past week? Really, Dean? And what exactly have you eaten at home? Toast? Maybe not even toast?"

I shook my head, narrowing my eyes at her, "Why can you just not accept the fact that I don't want to go out? My brother is dead and there's no reason for me to go out!" My voice started growing louder. "Leave me alone and let me mourn, god damn it, Jo!" 

A silence fell over everyone in the kitchen, and I heard Jody shift beside me to put her weight on her other hip and I closed my eyes. I hadn't meant to blow up on Jo, and I obviously felt guilty, but she needed to hear it. They all did. This isn't just something I can hop back from, and although I'm trying to work through it, I still can barely feel sadness, much less the need to stop feeling sad. 

I let the quiet grow and thicken around us until everyone was shifting and squirming to get out of it. "I will not be going, and don't ask me again," I finally ended, my voice sounding more gruff than I'd intended it to. Still, I turned around and tried not to stomp down the hallway back to my room. There was shuffling in the kitchen for a few moments until I heard the door close and finally sat down on my bed. 

I put my face in my hands and waited, knowing either Ellen or Jody would eventually come to scold me, or comfort me, one of the two. But after a few minutes of silence I let it go and figured they wanted to give me space. 

So instead of sleeping again, like I so desperately wanted to, I pulled out a random book from a shelf in my nightstand. Our bunker had an endless supply of books, and this was one I'd probably started and never gotten around to finishing. It was an informative book, on analyzing and diagnosing handwriting believe it or not. I opened to where there was a bookmark, and noticed the abundance of sticky notes on all the pages. 

Sammy must have read it before me and placed it in here for me to examine for him. The notes read things like "Pastiosity- blobs of ink/ sensual writers/ artistic minds" and random notes on definitions and such. He'd been in law school and read as many books on human behavior or psychology as possible. He probably had wanted me to read over the book and his notes and test him on it, like we'd done so many times before.

In a desperate attempt to relive our experiences together, I began to read the book. I tried to push away the lingering thought that there was no one I would be able to test on this, and it would be too late for me to grant him his wishes. 

Somewhere near page 109, there was a soft knock on my bedroom door. 

I walked over to it and answered warily, not exactly knowing who or what to expect. 

Judy stood there, a plate of powdered donuts in her hands, raised up to her face in an attempt to hide her smile. A grin quirked its way to my mouth and I hugged her awkwardly around the plate. She chuckled in victory and asked, "Mind if I come in?"

I shook my head and turned to sit on my bed, waiting for her to sit next to me. She sighed but flopped near me, setting the plate down between us and biting into one of the donuts herself. 

"Sweetie," she began, "I understand how hard this is on you- believe me, I know. And I'm not here to tell you that you shouldn't mourn, okay? But Jo has a hard time coping with loss, and she turns to other people who are dealing with issues to make herself feel more normal. Are you with me so far?" I nod silently, eyeing the plate of donuts, deciding whether or not I want one. "Okay, well, I totally respect the fact that you didn't want to go out with her and her friend, so that's not the problem here. There isn't a problem. All I'm saying is that you are both dealing with... this situation in opposite ways. You're secluding yourself and trying to stay in the past, and she's pushing forward, trying to forget the situation and surrounding herself with people and friends. Do you get me?"

"Yes," I say quietly, finally looking up at her from the food. 

"Okay, so... just go easy on her okay? Ellen will probably say something to her when she gets home if that boy she went out with doesn't," she shrugged and I nodded, trying to focus on what she was saying and not the plate of donuts sitting next to us. "Do you want one? I brought them for you anyways," she said around a bite of her own. I blinked at the plate, knowing that I should really eat one. 

"Uh..." I looked down. "Okay," I finally gave in and reached to one of them, practically biting half of it right away. 

"I'm glad you're eating, Dean, really," she nodded. "Honestly that was what I was most worried about when Ellen was telling me how you were. The fact that you weren't eating your usual six burgers a day scared me," she laughed bubbly. I chuckled, puffing a little bit of powdered sugar out. "Honey, I want you to know that if you ever need someone to talk to, or even just to distract you by watching a movie or something, I'll always be here."

I swallowed and smiled as best I could and leaned into her embrace. She left pretty shortly after, leaving me with the plate of donuts and telling me to eat slowly. 

I didn't eat any more of them. 

Honestly after eating only one I felt as though I might be sick. I sat in bed, flipping through the penmanship book without really reading it and trying to keep the donut down. After a few minutes I ran to the bathroom and threw up. 

The rest of the afternoon was quiet. It started to snow around 4 and Jo still wasn't home yet. I felt like I needed to apologize to her, although I also felt it was my right to feel how I wanted to feel. 

The handwriting book seemed to get more and more boring as I continued to read it, aside from Sammy's short notes. They reminded me that I wasn't left with a life completely without him. I knew I would have his notebooks and journals and textbooks to read through and reminisce. I just hated the fact that I could barely remember his voice anymore and it'd only been a week. What would it be like months later, when I was practically over it? 

Would I remember what he looked like? Would I remember his quirks? I didn't know what to expect, but I figured that not being over it was better than forgetting him altogether.

The doorbell ringing broke me out of my thoughts and I shot up, expecting it to be either Jo or Gunther, although I couldn't comprehend why Jo would ring the doorbell to the bunker. So I sprinted to the door and whipped it open to see our goofy, distant cousin. His twig arms opened straight away and I hugged him, giving him a noogie before letting go. He just laughed it off, like he always did and let himself into the bunker. 

"Man, I haven't been here in forever!" he exclaimed, looking around and dropping a suitcase next to his feet. He tried to brush the excess snow off his shoulders and hair, but ended up just rubbing the wetness into the cloth. He sighed and turned back toward me, "So how you doin', man?" 

"I'm okay, how about you?" I lied, wanting to take the attention off of myself. 

"I don't know... it's hard, you know? But I'm tryin' to stay positive," he nodded, shrugging his coat off and draping it over the back of a chair. There isn't anything to stay positive about. 

"Yeah, that's all you can really do," I responded, clearing my throat. I nodded to the suitcase, "How long you planning on staying?" I asked. I didn't mind him staying but I would much rather know how long I'd have to deal with other people around my home. 

"Only a week or so," he answered, picking the case up. "I'm in the same room, right?" he asked. I nodded. Gunther had stayed with Sammy and I before and we'd never touched the guest room he stayed in so he didn't have to worry about missing anything or not knowing if he left something here. "Alright, I'm gonna put my stuff away." I simply nodded again, then got myself a can of Coke, hoping to calm my queasy stomach.

I decided to sit and wait until Jo got home, hoping it was safely considering the weather. Sometime around half an hour later, just when I was beginning to get bored, I got up to get crackers and heard the doorknob jimmying. I looked to see Jo walk in, laughing with Castiel following directly behind her. I rolled my eyes and turned back to reaching on my toes to get the crackers from one of the higher cabinets. Sam was usually the only one to eat crackers, so high cabinets were never a problem for him. 

"Wow, nice ass, Dean," Jo joked, and I turned around just in time to see her shrugging her leather jacket and offering to take Castiel's trench coat. 

"I always appreciate some recognition," I responded dryly, sliding a pack of saltines from the box, and throwing the rest on the counter to sit back at the table. Jo started to walk to the table and sat across from me, Castiel sitting right next to her awkwardly. "It's coming down pretty hard out there, huh?" I ended up asking when neither of them said anything. 

"Yeah, Cas is gonna stay the night because I don't want him to crash or anything," she shrugged. My eyes widened involuntarily. 

"Oh, is he now?" I asked sarcastically, tilting my head to the side. Castiel moved to make himself smaller out of the corner of my eyes while Jo and I had a stare off. "Yes, that seems as though it would be something that's up to you, seeing as this is your house," I spat out. 

She shook her head, "Dean, you don't need to be an asshole! You have plenty of rooms in the bunker that he could stay in! He could get in a crash and hurt himself if he drives home in this weather!" 

My mouth opens into an o shape and I laugh humorlessly. "Yes, there are plenty of rooms for him, but did you not think that maybe I don't want more people filling those rooms?"

"I can go to a motel or something, it's not that big of a-"

"You need to think of someone other than yourself once in a while, Dean-"

"Don't tell me what I do or don't need to do in my own home, Jo, you're being a-"

"He'll get hurt if you don't let him stay-"

"-not my problem-" our words begin to overlap one another's and suddenly we're both full on screaming.

"-have a little consideration-"

"-such a god damn bitch-"

"-if you cared more about people-" Ellen and Judy come running into the kitchen.

"-this isn't up to you-"

"-SAM WOULD STILL BE HERE!"

I stop, another batch of silence settling over everyone. This time it's worse though. Before I'd wanted to let it sit for as long as possible to get my point across. But this time, Jo's surprise and guilt was already choking all of us. Her mouth opened and closed as she searched for something to say to make up for her horrid words. Her eyes were wide as I turned around without a word and walked calmly to the door. 

"Dean, wait-" she began. 

I turned, my hand still on the knob, an unnatural death glare drawn on my face, "Don't say a fucking word." I hissed through my teeth, grabbed the keys from a hook and swung the door open with such a force that it slammed against the wall in back of it and cracked. I didn't look back but walked to my car, remembering to be gentle with her as I opened the door. I had to reach in to grab the wiper so I could brush the snow off, and then clean the windshield. When I finished and went back to sit down, Castiel was sitting in the passenger's seat. 

"What do you want?" I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face and turning the car on to get some heat running through her. 

"I just want to join you on your drive," he answered innocently. 

"Fuck it," I laughed sarcastically and stepped on the gas.


	4. chapter 4

I didn't exactly know where I was going, but I kept driving through the snowy streets, feeling dizzy and also feeling something unidentified. It wasn't exactly rage because I wasn't at the point that I wanted to strangle Jo for what she said. 

It's the fact that I believed what she said, but had been denying myself the pain of really knowing it. It was more a sense of realization mixed with a hatred of myself. 

"Dean?" 

"What, Castiel, what could you possibly want right now?" I asked, shaking my head and tightening my grip on the steering wheel. 

"I was just going to tell you that you ran a red light..." he mumbled softly. 

"I did?" I did!?

"And you're going like ten over the limit..."

"What?" What!? 

I checked the speedometer and he was right, so I laid off a little, but it was too late. The sirens were already whooping behind me, and Castiel and I sighed in unison. 

"I don't have my license," I remembered aloud. 

"What?" he turned to look at me with a disapproving stare while I pulled over. 

"Looks like we're going in to the station," I sighed, putting the car in park. 

"Here, switch seats with me," Castiel offered, unbuckling.

"What? No," I shook my head. 

"Just do it, I don't wanna go to the station, I'm not in the mood!" he growled. 

"Oh, you're not in the mood? You're the reason I'm not in the mood!" 

"Then switch god damn seats with me!" he hissed. 

"You know what? Fine!" I gave up and I slid under him to get in the passenger seat awkwardly. We buckled up quickly just as the officer started walking to the far. 

She had pitch black hair and an outfit that seemed a little too fitted. I didn't care personally but it bothered me that so many other men wouldn't pay attention to her as a cop because she was a woman with a fitted uniform. She knocked on the window and Castiel rolled it down, a small smile on his face. 

"Well, hello there, sir," she smirked. 

"What seems to be the problem, Officer..." he leaned forward to see her name tag and laughed, "Sorry, Sheriff Lorenzo?"

"You ran a red light, not to mention the fact that you were almost 12 miles over the speed limit," she sighed. "I know the weather is pretty rough, and the plows haven't been out yet, but sweetie, you gotta slow it down, alright?" she had a southern twang and he laughed, cringing slightly. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry, ma'am I seem to be sliding everywhere!" he joked.

"Well, just slow it down next time or I might have to ticket you," she winked and began walking away. Castiel rolled up his window and turned to look at me with a 'How about that?' look on his face. 

"She didn't even ask for your license!" I complained. 

"I thought she would, but honestly I want to drive the Impala," he set his hands on the wheel and shuddered. I gasped. 

"You just want to use my baby!" I accused. 

"I do.... I really really do," he took a deep breath in and turned the key, hearing the engine sputter before purring to life. He let the breath out in a whistle. 

"No, no way, we're switching back now!" I reached forward to grab the wheel from him. 

"Stop! You'll hurt her," he pushed my hand away and switched gears. "That's smooth..." he sighed. 

"Stop it, she doesn't like it!" I unbuckled and tried to push him away from the gears. I felt laughter bubbling in my throat but pushed it down. 

He stepped on the gas and breathed out, turning on the wipers. "Jesus," he shook his head and revved the engine. "Her noises are glorious."

"Don't talk about my baby like that!" Finally the laughter started coming out when I was halfway over the console, trying to take the drivers seat back from Castiel. 

"Hey, I just want to take her home, then she's all yours," he said smoothly. 

"I will not hesitate to cut you," I threatened, my hands on the steering wheel opposite of his. 

"So, so beautiful," he let go of the wheel, leaving me with the pressure of the snow against the wheels to rub the dashboard. 

"Cas!"

"I've never actually seen a '67 in real life," he admitted, running his fingers over the buttons on the stereo. 

"Take the wheel back," I begged. 

"You wanted to drive her so bad, you steer," he laughed. Small spurts of laughter escaped my throat when he would say something excessively suggestive about her until I pulled her into the parking lot of a drug store near home. 

"I need to run in," I said, trying to untangle our arms from the wheel. He laughed and pushed me off of him so I was back in the passenger's seat. 

He sighed, but said, "I'll come with."

I got out of the car, snow immediately falling over me, and the snow on the ground went up to the middle of my calves. We practically had to stomp to the door and when we were finally inside we had to shake our legs to get all the snow off. 

"I just have to run to see if some pictures are developed yet," I said truthfully. 

"Alright," he nodded and stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and walked the opposite direction. 

Thankful that he was giving me space, as he'd failed to do today, I thought over what happened in the car. I had actually, genuinely laughed and had a good time. It wasn't much, but I'd felt happy for a few minutes even if it was just because he was being a perverted dick to my baby. 

I walked up to the counter to see the familiar man from two weeks ago. Sam and I had gone to one of his friend's weddings, and we had pictures taken- more of him than me- but I still wanted them. So I approached him and greeted, "Hello, Gordon."

"Hey! Dean, right? You're pictures have been sitting her a while!" 

"Yeah, I know, but can I pick them up now?" I asked. 

"Of course you can," he turned around to grab them. 

Our exchange was formal and brief and when I turned around, Castiel was directly behind me, so we were nose to nose. 

"Hello," he grinned goofily. 

"Hi, Cas," I nodded and turned to walk past him. "Are you ready to go?" 

"Uh, yeah, I just wanted to buy this pack of gum," he answered, cutting me off to get in line for the register. 

"Alright..."

We stood in line for two solid minutes before we reached the old woman working as a cashier. "Hello, dears, would you like paper or plastic?"

"Oh, we don't need a bag," Castiel waved it off.

"You need to choose."

"No, really, I can just carry it out-"

"Paper or plastic?"

Beginning to get exasperated, Castiel sighed, "I don't need a-"

"Plastic is fine, thank you," I finally answered for him, glaring at him over my shoulder. 

"Alrighty then," she said. She finished ringing him up and handed me the bag, saying, "If I didn't believe the devil was in both of ya, I'd say you were a lovely couple."

I furrowed my eyebrows and Cas smiled sarcastically, "Well, thank you."

He started to walk out and I waited, opening my mouth to say something rude when he came back to push me with a hand on my back out the door. 

"Who the hell does she think-"

"She's a southern old lady, leave her alone," he said, getting in the driver's seat. 

"No-"

"Honestly, this isn't even about driving her, I just don't trust you to drive in general right now," he explained. 

I sighed, but opened the passenger door and slid in, grumbling, "It's totally about driving her."

But I remained quiet while he drove the short distance to the bunker, swearing when we would slide on black ice or cussing out strangers who cut him off. Finally when we arrived home, surprisingly in one piece, I ignored Jo, who was sitting at the table and walked straight to my bedroom, ordering Castiel to leave the car keys on the hook by the door. 

Before I got to my room, I heard Jody say, "He let you drive the car?" 

Then I slammed the door shut and kicked off my shoes so I could flop on the bed. I pulled open the orange cardboard envelope that contained the most recent photos I had of Sam. I was hesitant to reach in and take them out, but I ended up doing it before I could stop myself. 

The first picture was just of him dancing and laughing like an idiot with a gin and tonic in his left hand. Each table had had a disposable camera on it so we could keep memories of the night, and when I'd first seen them, I'd liked the idea, but now I liked it even more. I set the picture to the side and flipped to the next one. It was me on the dance floor, a beer in my hand while I played the air guitar. 

I chuckled breathlessly and looked to the next one. It was of Sammy and me, but his leg was up on my waist in a drunken attempt to make me laugh, but by the look of it I was succeeding in keeping a straight face. I smiled at how the picture perfectly captured his personality. 

The next one was him with the bride, both of them shining sweat from their dancing, but smiling widely. The next was him with the bridesmaids on the floor bowing at his feet. His arms were crossed and he was smirking. Next was him with his arm around the maid of honor, who was exceptionally stunning. The next few were him with some of his college buddies; then I got to a picture of just the two of us in our tuxedos eating pancakes at Denny's. I smiled at the picture, remembering that it was about 4 am when we'd left the wedding, and we were starving from lack of real foods. (His friends served vegan dinners). The next ones were us goofing off, feeding each other sausage or taking suggestive pictures. But the last one was me with my arm hooked around his neck, both of us laughing under a light post. The girl who'd come with us to Denny's was named Jessica- she was the maid of honor- and I silently thanked her for taking such good pictures of us so I could look back on them. 

There was a knock on my door and I debated whether or not to shuffle all the pictures together and keep them for myself. In a split second decision, that's what I did while I called, "Just a sec!" and gathered them together, tossing them into the drawer on my night stand. "Come in."

Surprisingly, Jo was behind the door. My prior semi-good mood immediately drained with one look at her face. "Dean, we need to talk about what I said..."

"No, Jo, I really don't want to talk about it," I shook my head, turning from her. 

"I didn't mean what I said, Dean, I swear," she told me, shaking her head. 

"No, Jo, and that's the problem, isn't it? You meant exactly what you said," I narrowed my eyes. "And the fact that you're denying it makes me feel worse."

"I'm sorry, Dean, I swear. It wasn't your fault what happened," she insisted. 

"I don't care that you're sorry, Jo, I really don't," I admitted with a shrug. "What I care about is that you said it, then tried to take it back. Let's just forget you said anything, okay? We all know that the truth is if I would have been there for Sammy, made him stop what he was doing, he would still be here right now. All of us know it, okay? So don't act like even if I'd tried to stop him he wouldn't be doing it anymore, because he would. And we know he would."

"Dean, please-"

"Stop, Jo," I whispered. "I know it was my fault, so just leave."

"Dean-"

"Jo?" Castiel's voice called from the door. "Can I talk to Dean for a minute?"

"Fine," she sighed, giving up and leaving. Cas lingered in the doorway a minute before closing it and sitting on the edge of the opposite side of the bed. 

"Look, I don't need your expertise or medical diagnosis, Cas, so if that's what this is, then you can leave, okay?" I tell him with a sigh. 

He shakes his head. "It's not... I just wanted to know if I could look through the pictures with you."

I furrowed my eyebrows. That was not what I'd been expecting. "Uh..." I guess if I only showed them to Castiel, they'd still be personal. "Sure, I guess..." I reached over to take them out of my drawer and handed the stack to him. 

From the first picture to the last, there was a big smile on his face. "This one is my favorite," he said, lifting the one of us under the lamp post to show me. "Who was taking them?"

"The maid of honor, her name was Jess," I answered vaguely. 

"And Sam was the best man?" I nodded. "And... he brought you as his date?"

"Shut up, he brought me as his plus one!" I laughed, smacking his arm. 

"Dean, this is in no way a medical diagnosis, this is advice from one friend to another-"

"Oh we're friends now?" 

His lips quirked, "Yes, I'd like to say we are."

"Then why am I paying you to direct my brothers funeral?" I asked sarcastically, leaning closer to him. 

An offended look crossed his face, and it took me a moment to realize it was legitimate offense, but before I did he leaned even closer and growled, "You're not." Before standing quickly, tossing the pictures back onto the bed and leaving. 

"Wait, Cast-"

The door slammed shut. 

I would be lying if I said I didn't feel kind of bad, but I was surprised as well. Were we really not paying him? Was he just doing this for Jo out of the kindness of his heart? I shook my head to get rid of the thoughts and just laid down, proud of myself for getting through another day without Sam.


	5. chapter 5

When I woke up the next morning, I hear people talking at a distance and I couldn't decide whether I wanted to go meet up with them or not, but finally ended up walking out to the living room to see what they were conversing about. 

Jo, Gunther, Judy and Castiel were all seated on the couches in the main room of the bunker, and stopped talking when I entered the room. I met each of their stares individually, except for Cas's because he refused to look at me at all. Jo looked guilty, and Judy and Gunther looked a mix between sympathetic and amused by their previous conversation. 

"Good morning, sunshine," Judy finally said, smiling ear to ear. It was obvious that she was being cheery for my benefit, seeing as the funeral was today. 

I didn't exactly know how to feel about the fact that it was today. That this day should give me "closure" as so many people called it. I don't see how saying a few words about how great of a guy Sammy was will give me closure when I basically lost half of myself. How was I supposed to just "accept" the fact that I would never see or hear from him again and it was my fault? The sad truth was just that it wouldn't happen, and no matter how much supposed closure I got.

"Morning," I answered quietly, distracted by the holes in my thoughts. It felt like whenever I tried to process what was going on in my head that the thoughts were molasses. It was incredibly frustrating but I didn't have the energy to try and thin it so I could think smoothly, so I stood there irritated with no completed thoughts in my mind. 

"How are you?" Jo's voice tapered off at the end, as though she realized that we were still not at a good spot in our relationship. Castiel continued looking down at his hands clasped in his lap. 

"I'm fine," I shrugged. "What time is it?"

Judy answered quickly, "It's 12:45."

Only an hour and fifteen minutes until I actually had to confront my feelings at a service. I didn't know if they would expect me to speak on Sam's behalf or not, but if they did I doubted I would be able to keep it together during the service. I looked up back to everyone and felt Gunther looking at me. 

"Do you wanna ride with someone or drive yourself?" he asked. I'd never heard him so serious before and it was unnerving. Gunther was always the one to lighten the mood with his goofy personality or joke about bad situations to make them seem less bad. I didn't like seeing him down, but I couldn't pinpoint how I'd feel if he was being funny on a day like this. 

"I guess I can drive myself," I shrugged. After what happened I didn't ever want to be dependent on anyone else. I wouldn't. Getting through the deaths of so many of the people I loved has been insanely hard on me and I wouldn't have the ability to go through it even one more time. I wasn't even beginning to get through Sammy's, and it'd been over a week now. But that didn't mean I would be a dick. "But if someone needs a ride, I guess I can drive them," I offered, figuring everyone brought a car or at least rented one and would be able to drive themselves. 

Suddenly, interrupting our conversations, the doorbell rang and I turned, eyebrows furrowed wondering who the hell it could be. I looked back to everyone and they all wore matching expressions, except for Judy who had a small smirk on her face, and nodded for me to answer the door. I walked warily over, worried about approaching whoever was at the door, but also calmed because of Judy's reassurance. 

I opened the door slowly to reveal a small redhead with a smirk on her face. I felt my face light up seeing the girl who was like my sister. 

"Whaddup, bitches?" she tilted her head to the side and practically jumped on me. I lifted her off her feet in a bear hug and she laughed into my shoulder. 

"Charlie!" I hadn't seen Charlie in months and I definitely hadn't been expecting her to show up. It was weird for it to be under the circumstances that she showed up. When I let her down she had a sympathetic smile across her features. 

"How are you doing, Dean?" she asked softly, closing the door behind her and shivering as she shrugged her leather coat off. 

"I'm fine, how are you?" I responded automatically, and she turned to give me a 'Yeah, right' look but didn't say anything. 

"I'm okay," she put her coat on the rack near the door and shook her short hair out to get the snow out of it. I took the bag she had from her hands and lead her back to the room she usually used. I was running out of space and Ellen and Jo were already sharing a room. Once we were alone in the room, she put a hand on my shoulder and met my eyes, "Really, Dean, how are you doing?"

I looked down. I knew I could tell Charlie anything and she would not only never judge me for it, but she would support me and guide me through anything. I debated whether or not to tell her what was really going through my head and ended up practically spilling my entire mental reaction to her. 

"Charlie... it's been so hard," I began and sat down on her bed because I knew that talking about how I was would be harder than thinking about it. "I can't eat and all I can do is sleep. Nothing is appealing anymore, nothing makes me laugh... no one has made me feel happy. I haven't felt anything since he died. I can't feel anything. And everyone wants me to address this horrible thing that I can barely even address by myself. I don't want to go to the funeral, I don't want to leave my room and I definitely don't want to leave home. I want to go in Sam's room and stay there until I finally feel better. I honestly don't even know if I wanna feel better," I put my head in my hands and Charlie sat next to me, rubbing my back. "If feeling like this is hard for me, then actually feeling that sense of loss that everyone is talking about will kill me. I know it will. Sam was like my other half, and now I'm missing him. I don't want to do this anymore, I don't," all of my sentences were choppy, and I knew it, but I couldn't be bothered to worry about my grammar or structured sentences when I was talking about this. I could barely spit out a coherent thought, much less word it delicately. "It's hard, Charlie, and I don't know now to fix the way I'm feeling. I don't think I can fix it. You have to help me, I know that I'm hurting Jo and Ellen, and I feel awful."

She sighed beside me, her hand moving in steady motions between my shoulders. "Dean..." she began, a motherly tone taking to her voice. "You should not feel awful. This...thing that happened- it's not your fault and you need to understand that. You need to be allowed to mourn, okay? And if your way of mourning is shutting people off, that's okay. For now at least. If it makes you feel better to sit in silence by yourself, that's fine. What's not fine is feeling like you need to fill everyone else's sense of loss just because Sam is your brother. It's not your responsibility to make up for the holes he left, sweetie. You need to focus on feeling better yourself before you worry about everyone else. I know it's hard to put yourself before others when you can barely think about what happened, but... trust me, Dean you are what matters to me right now, and you should be what matters to yourself. And I will be here for you for as long as you need, do you understand?" 

I turned my head to meet her eyes and there were tears glistening in them, as I was sure there were in mine as well. I nodded and leaned towards her for a hug. She latched onto my neck and her chest heaved against mine. It was obvious she was fighting off tears and trying not to sob for my benefit, but it only made me feel worse. 

Her speech helped me a lot, so it wasn't that that I felt so terrible about. It was the fact that what she said made sense and I just didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to put myself first, I didn't even want to think about it. But she made it clear that it was the only way to feel better, so when I was ready I would. That wasn't today, but I hoped it would be some day soon because I didn't want to feel this way anymore. 

"I love you, Charlie," I whispered. She tightened her hold on me and her breaths shuddered before she started hiccuping. I took that as an I love you, too. 

A few minutes later, she pulled away and wiped her eyes. She took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry, that was supposed to make you feel better, not make me cry."

I shook my head, "No, it's okay, it did."

She glanced down at her watch, "It's already quarter after one... the funeral is at 2:30 right?"

I nodded and looked down. "Yeah... at some place called Water Springs."

"Okay, well, I will be driving Baby, got it?" she asked, a smile on her bird like features. I rolled my eyes. "Hey, I want to drive her while I'm here," she laughed. "Although I do plan on staying for a few weeks, if that's alright with you."

Charlie was probably one of the only people I would be okay with staying with me for weeks at a time. It's because she's so calm about everything, and if I don't want to do or talk about something, she'll let it go. If I'm feeling down she'll plop on the couch next to me with popcorn and watch Game of Thrones with me. She'll do anything to distract me and make me feel better. 

"Well, hey, I know you're supposed to wear black to a funeral, but you look thin enough, so maybe everyone should wear flannel to honor Sam's crazy fashion sense," she chuckled. It made sense- I'd rather not mourn him so basically. He wore flannel all the time- Charlie and I did too- but it was a staple in his closet. 

If he were here he wouldn't want us to wear all black, anyways. He'd prefer something more meaningful; and probably more casual. Formal events used to irritate him. 

"That's a good idea," I nodded, and put my hands on my knees to stand up. She stood beside me and we walked together back to the living room, where Ellen had joined everyone else. Everyone got up to hug Charlie, and even though Gunther had never met her, they were both such sweet people that it was as if they'd known each other for years. 

"It's great to see you, sweetie, what a nice surprise," Ellen smiled at her. 

"Yeah, Judy called me," she nodded with a small grin. "She thought it would be a good idea for me to be here, and I agreed." She turned and gave me an encouraging look .

"Well, Charlie and I thought that..." I began and took a deep breath. "We, uh, thought that Sam wouldn't have wanted anything too formal... and that he probably would want us all to wear something more significant than just plain black," I cleared my throat. "So we thought it would be a good idea for all of us to wear flannel since... Sam was basically Paul Bunyon."

Everyone laughed and I tried to smile. Judy stood and put a hand on my back, "Well, I personally think that's a great idea. Sam would've loved it."

I looked to Jo and she smiled with a nod. I shifted to glance at Castiel and he finally looked at me. "I don't have any flannel," he admitted. 

I gave a small smile because I still felt bad for assuming things about him yesterday and offered before I could think, "I have plenty, you can have one."

His eyes brightened a little, but the rest of his face remained passive and calm, "Thanks, Dean."

I nodded once and coughed a little. "Well, uh... I'm gonna get dressed, then," I nodded. 

"Uh, Dean?" Jo said quietly. I looked at her. "Cas, uh... he doesn't have any clean clothes..."

"Oh, um..." I looked at Charlie and she shrugged. "Well, you can borrow those, too." I turned to walk away and waved a little. "Come on."

He stood and followed me back to my room. I closed the door behind us and tried to decide whether I should address what had happened the night before but he spoke before I could. 

"Listen, Dean, I'm sorry about storming out last night," he apologized. "I know you're going through a rough time and it's not fair of me to be sensitive about little things like that, so... yeah."

I looked up at him and shrugged. "It's fine, I'm sorry for assuming that you were just treating this like another job." 

Uncomfortable with the silence that followed our statements, I cleared my throat again and gestured to my dresser. "Well, all of my clothes are in there. There are plenty of flannels so take your pic," I chuckled. "I'm going to take a quick shower. If you want to just hang out in here, I guess that's fine." I turned to leave, but as I last thought I turned around and took the pictures from last night out of my nightstand and put them on the bed, aware that he was following my movements. "Uh... in case you wanted to finish looking at them." I shrugged once and then actually walked into the bathroom, closing and locking the door. It wasn't that I didn't trust that Castiel wouldn't knock before entering the bathroom, it was just a comfort thing. 

I forced myself to do my showering and shaving business as quick as I could, knowing that the service would be starting soon. I wasn't eager to get there or anything, but I didn't want to be rude and make everyone wait, so I tied my towel around my waist and brushed my teeth, then walked out. 

The first thing I noticed in my room was Castiel's figure laying on my bed, searching through the wedding pictures. When he heard the door open he looked at me and stood quickly. 

"Uh, hi," he waved stiffly. My mouth hung open slightly. 

It was strangely satisfying to see him wearing all my clothes. He'd picked dark jeans, a black tshirt and a blue and gray flannel. The jeans were hanging incredibly low on his hips, because he was definitely thinner than me. I walked up to him and his face remained stony. 

"You know the belt can go tighter," I commented, looking down to where my hands were already working on tightening it a few notches. When I finished I looked up and saw Cas's eyebrows furrowed. He swallowed thickly. 

"Uh... okay, well I'll leave you to... change," he coughed awkwardly and now my eyebrows were furrowed as he stumbled over his own feet and left the room. 

As I got dressed, I tried to process why he was so uncomfortable and I contemplated it for a few minutes until my brain actually decided to make sense of the situation. 

I had tightened his belt for him. I reached down, unhooked the belt he had on, and tightened it with no mention of him needing help. 

That was an incredibly intimate gesture on my part and I hadn't even thought about until I was finished. Of course he was uncomfortable! Why wouldn't he be? I would be too if some random guy WITH A TOWEL AROUND HIS WAIST just TIGHTENED MY BELT FOR ME. 

I was mentally smacking myself when I finished changing into a white tshirt and a black and red flannel with black jeans. I slipped into my boots and shook my head. Why did I do that?

And why did I like that he was wearing my clothes so much and that they were so big on him? I shook my head to rid myself of the thoughts and stood up, running a hand through my damp hair which had gotten long in the past weeks. 

Without much more reason to stall other than my discomfort, I walked back out to the kitchen where it was a mini sea of flannel shirts. Charlie had hers buttoned up to her chin, and her cheeks were red, bothering me that I wasn't here to comfort her when she was crying. 

"Well," she sniffled. "No use in waiting around I guess." She shook her head. "Let's get this over with."

I tried to look at Castiel to see his reaction to what had happened and he actually made eye contact with me, which was a good sign, but he blushed and shifted awkwardly. I smirked a little, at least glad we wouldn't be too weird about it. 

Charlie then grabbed my hand and squeezed it. I looked at her and her sad expression made me more upset that I'd felt in days. It was so hard to see people I cared so deeply about be so unhappy. 

We walked to the car, agreeing to meet up with everyone before we went into the room for the service, since Castiel was really the only person who knew where it was. I reluctantly swung myself into the passenger side of my baby and Charlie made a satisfied noise when she purred to life. 

"Why is everyone moaning over her?" I whined. "She's mine!"

Charlie shrugged. "She's a babe."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't argue while she sped up to follow Jo's car. 

We reached the home relatively quickly, silent the whole drive, because neither of us could muster anything appropriate for the situation. It wasn't uncomfortable silence like I'd been settled in for the past few days though, this was a cozy silence, like we were surrounded in plush comforters. The silence was like a warm blanket to shield us from the freezing reality outside of the car. 

But eventually we had to throw the blanket off and approach the dark funeral home with everyone else. I could practically feel everyone wanting to comfort me, but no one did and I was thankful for it. Castiel walked in front of us to check in and then waved us back to a room the size of the living room at the bunker. It was bigger than necessary, but I was glad Cas recommended we get a larger room than we needed because I did need my space today. 

We all moved to take a seat, Charlie on my right and Judy on my left. "The priest will be here any moment," he explained and Judy stood with the urn they had picked- it wasn't exactly in the shape of a vase but it was rounded. It was black and had Sam Winchester engraved in the side in a fluid font. She set it on the small alter at the front of the room, then came back to sit by me. 

The priest walked in about ten seconds after, apologizing for being late. He was a young man, probably only in his late twenties, but he had a wise aura about him. 

"I am so sorry for your loss," he nodded at us and we all nodded back. He got right to business, lighting incense in one corner and a candle on the alter. The smell of the incense overwhelmed me and made my eyes burn, but I ignored it and focused on the priest. 

"We are gathered here today, not to mourn the loss of Sam Winchester, but to celebrate the life he had..."

I tried to focus, really I did, but I'd been to so many funerals in my time that they all began to sound the same. So in my head I made my own tiny service to him. I spoke as if he was sitting across from me in my head, and when I finished with an I love you, Sammy, a strange warmth grew from my chest outward to the rest of my body. 

"Dean?" Charlie whispered. "Do you want to say anything?"

I looked to her, feeling the blank expression on my face. I opened my mouth and closed it once, then looked at the priest. He gave me an encouraging smile and beckoned for me to come up to the alter to say a few words about Sam. 

I took in a large breath and stood up, following his lead and standing at the alter. I watched the flame flickering from the candle for a few moments before I let my breath out. 

"Sam was-" I stopped, barely into my second word and already feeling my throat close. "Sam was the most amazing man I'd ever known," my voice broke somewhere in the middle, but really I couldn't bother myself with it. "He was more caring than anyone I'd ever met. And although he didn't show it all the time, he was incredibly kind and sympathetic. He felt the need to guard himself around people, and it... it was understandable. Everyone we'd ever had in our family had died on us. We were all the other-" my voice stopped. It didn't break, I just couldn't get words out for a moment. I coughed and sucked in a breath. "We were all that the other had. And- and all the other could depend on. And... and I let him down," tears were gathering in my eyes and I tried to convince myself that it was from the incense and not my sadness. "I wasn't there for him when he was struggling with... his addiction and I wasn't there when it became too much for him. And I doubt I'll ever be able to forgive myself for that. Sam deserved better. Really he did. And I wasn't better. I was selfish, and I refused to accept that he was getting into anything that he couldn't handle. But eventually everyone will break, and Sam... he wouldn't have broken if I'd helped him with all the weight on his shoulders."

They began to spill and when I looked at my friends, they were all already crying, aside from Castiel, who looked as though he would at any moment. When I looked at the priest, he was teary eyed as well, but nodded for me to continue. I didn't know if I could keep talking about how I'd failed Sam, so I changed my topic. 

"Sam was studying to become a lawyer..."

I just kept talking. It was like someone had flipped a switch for me to reminisce all of our memories, and I just spilled my heart out. I talked about random days when we would stay at home, and other times when we would go to the gun range to release the tension in his shoulders from school. I talked about memories when we were little kids with dad, and Bobby. I talked about how I would help him study, and about the time he almost burnt down the bunker. By the time I couldn't get anymore words out, everyone was crying, including the priest and Castiel. 

I shook my head and moved to sit back down. 

The service ended very soon after that, and I felt so drained that I didn't know if I could really be mentally present for the reception. We collectively decided that instead of having a reception, we would just order takeout (I didn't really plan on eating) and watch one of Sam's favorite movies; Batman Begins. 

At home everyone was hugging everyone, and when it came that I hugged Charlie, she buried her face in my chest and took a deep breath before pulling away. "I love you, Dean," she nodded.

"I love you, too, Charlie," I kissed her forehead and she smiled through her tears. 

Hugging Castiel was comforting, because he was the only other guy there, and he reminded me of Sam with his goofy character. I ended up holding on to him longer than I should have, trying to remember what it was like to hug Sammy, and I don't think he really minded all that much, because he just let me hug him, and kept his own arms around me until I seemed ready to let go. When I did, he put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile. 

It was the first time since Sam had died that a reassuring smile had been reassuring.


	6. Chapter 6

The days following the funeral were long, but the weeks were short. Before I knew it, it'd been a month and it got harder and harder to remember his face without a picture in front of me or his voice unless I listened to one of his test recordings or spoken papers. Still, feelings were slowly filling me; the sadness of loss, the depression of knowing he would never be back, and another that I didn't quite know how to identify. It didn't really relate that directly to Sammy, but it was more towards Castiel. It was a warm fondness but also almost a feeling of betrayal seeing as the only reason I knew him was because he was helping me plan a service for my dead brother.

I tried to get out of my sadness and go out with Charlie and Jo more and more- Castiel, too. He'd been at the bunker more and more lately and we'd gotten closer. I still didn't know the details of his relationship with Jo, although sometimes they would sleep in the same room and leave together in the mornings. I didn't question it. 

Judy and Ellen were out a lot, mostly because Judy had to go back to her work and so did Ellen. I would write, submit stories or poems into contests or anonymously to a publisher and I'd win them once in a while, glad to have something filling my bank account. 

Charlie always seemed to have money, and I was pretty sure there was something sketchy and illegal going on, but I didn't really care for now. She assured me she had a "proxy" and although I wasn't quite sure what that was, I figured it was safe. 

Today I had planned on staying home since it was the exact one month anniversary, and moping in my sadness, but Jo came knocking on my door, Castiel behind her, wearing a plain black tshirt and checkered pajama pants. He waved with a small smile and Jo said, "Hey, I'm going out today, if you guys wanna do something."

"Where are you going?" I automatically responded, worried about anyone who left the bunker. 

"I have to go back to work eventually, Dean, I can't have my mom always providing for me," she shrugged. "I work double shifts today, so I won't be back until like tomorrow morning." It was almost 4pm, so it seemed like she was working a twelve hour shift. 

"Okay, that's fine, Cas, you can hang out in here with Charlie and I if you want," I shrugged, not thinking much of the three of us watching TV together in my room. 

Suddenly his face was hesitant, "Oh, you and Charlie? I don't know, I wouldn't really want to intrude..." he shook his head. 

"Intrude?" Jo and I both asked incredulously. I furrowed my eyebrows. 

"Aren't you and Charlie, like... a couple?" he asked. I could feel realization dawning on my features before Jo and I burst out laughing. He stood there, looking pitifully clueless. 

"No, Cas," I put a hand over my mouth to calm myself. Through my laughter I explained, "No, Charlie is very much a lesbian."

His jaw dropped, "Really?" We both nodded and I shrugged. 

"You really can't identify one of your own kind, Cas?" Jo laughed and hit him in the arm. This time I was the confused one. 

"What?"

Castiel blushed and looked at Jo. "Cas is gay, too," she shrugged. 

"Oh," was my response. "Well, alright."

It made me think about that time I had tightened his belt for him, and a few times after that. We'd ended up in awkward positions before, and I thought he was straight, so he'd never thought anything of it. Sexuality wasn't a big deal to me, and mine was pretty broad. I knew that when I was interested in someone, I'd know, and although that was nowhere near how Sammy and I were raised, that's basically what we'd decided when we were young. 

Knowing that Cas was gay, though, that made me wonder if those situations were really uncomfortable for him. For example the time we'd been playing lazer tag (we were on the same team) and were hiding from Jo and Charlie in a tight crawlspace. He'd been laying flat on his back and well, I ended up on all fours directly above him. At the time, we both had to cover our mouths to keep from laughing in that position, so I hoped that he truthfully didn't care, because I didn't. If anything I actually really appreciated those moments.

"Well, yeah Charlie and I were probably just going to watch a movie or something," I finally added. "You're welcome to join our fun party. We'll probably order Chinese food." 

"Okay, cool," he nodded and Jo gave us a thumbs up. 

"Bye bitches," she said before walking out the door. 

Cas lingered awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, so I said, "Step into my office," just as Charlie ran in past him and practically did a canon ball onto my bed, making the side I was laying on fly up, along with my body. 

I smacked onto the ground and all the air was knocked out of me. There were two audible gasps, and then them trying to muffle their laughter while I said, "I hate you."

Castiel was sat on the bed by her now and they were both practically snorting at my expense. I finally got up and flipped them both off before walking to the TV and looking through the movies. 

"What do you guys wanna watch?"

Charlie scooted to the edge of the bed to look through my abundance of DVDs and stroked her chin thoughtfully. "We could go horror," she suggested. "Or we could go Disney," I nodded along with her. "We could go Edward Scissorhands?" I shrugged. "Or we could go Paranormal Activity..." She sighed. "Cas what do you think?"

He crawled forward on the bed to look at the options like Charlie was. "Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. "Let's go with... Paranormal Activity," he nodded. 

"Got it," I agreed and started to set up the player, then grabbed the remote and turned back to my bed, where Charlie had thrown all but two pillows onto the ground for us to lay there. She was laying down on the right side of the bed, patting in front of her in a way that she probably thought was seductive. "I still hate you," I ended up cracking up along with Cas before I finally sighed, "I'm gonna make some popcorn."

"I'll come with you," he said, following me to the kitchen. It took me a few seconds to decide whether I wanted to commit to making popcorn or just using the microwave. I ended up choosing microwave. I hopped up to sit on the counter while we waited and Cas stood next to me, leaning near my legs. 

"Hey, Dean?" I looked at him expectantly, surprised at the serious tone of his voice. Cas was one of the most sarcastic and funny people I'd ever met and I was almost worried. "Does it bother you that I'm gay?" he asked hesitantly, tilting his head to the side. I furrowed my eyebrows. "It's just that you were quiet for a really long time after Jo told you and I just don't want you to feel... uncomfortable or anything."

I shook my head and smiled. "Cas," I put a hand on his shoulder so he would look me in the eye. "Honestly, there is nothing that would matter less to me about you," I said almost forcefully just so he knew I was being honest. "I'm not uncomfortable, trust me."

"Oh my god!" Charlie came running into the kitchen, her eyes wide and I giant smile across her face. "NATALIE PORTMAN IS IN TOWN!" Cas and I remained silent. "I NEED TO FIND HER AND GET HER AUTOGRAPHOHMYGODIALREADYTRACKEDTHEGPSONHERPHONEI'LLBEBACKINAFEWHOURSI'LLSENDPICTURES!" Eventually all of her words became one long word and she grabbed her coat and sprinted out the door. Castiel's eyebrows were furrowed. 

"Natalie Portman was in Star Wars and Charlie is obsessed," I chuckled. "Well, looks like it's just a guys night, huh?" I asked when the microwave went off. "Do you want a beer?" I moved to the fridge to grab them and threw one to Cas, who caught it with ease. 

After pouring the popcorn into a bowl and grabbing two more beers for us when we finished our current drinks, we headed back to my room, where Charlie had already let the movie play and it was already almost half an hour in. 

We got ourselves positioned, half sitting half laying down and finished both of the beers quickly seeing as the movie was already almost over. I got up and grabbed a bottle of Bourbon instead of more beer, because I didn't really want to waste it. 

I sat on the edge of my bed and turned to Cas, "Do you want to watch something else?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Let's watch a comedy."

I took a swig of the whiskey and set it on the table by my bed so Cas could grab it while I put a movie in. I was feeling slightly touchy about drinking tonight, because I'd been trying to avoid alcohol after Sam... I didn't want to feel dependent on it to conceal my feelings, but I figured that tonight was different. I was only drinking because Castiel and I were going to have a guy's night. No other reason. 

"What did you put in?" he asked when I stood to walk back to the bed, the bottle in his hand. He took a gulp while keeping eye contact with me and I looked away. 

"21 Jump Street," I answered, sitting straight up next to him while he continued to lounge around. I took the bottle again. 

We passed it back and forth a few times, but I ended up covering it and putting it down next to my bed, just so I wouldn't have enough to completely black out. Feeling buzzed was good enough for me. It made the crappy microwave popcorn taste better, too.

"Damn, Channing Tatum is sexy," I heard a deep voice say. I looked to Cas who was staring at me with wide eyes and an evil smirk. 

"Oh, you think so?" his smirk grew. 

Wait did I say that?

Oh. "Yeah, I do," I nodded. 

"Me too," he shrugged, then turned back to the movie. I looked at it, too, but I didn't really focus on it. I was honestly still thinking about the fact that he was gay. It wasn't that big of a deal to me, but what was that big of a deal was the confusion I had when I tried to decipher what I felt about him. I'd already accepted that I was fond of him, but I wasn't sure if it went beyond that. I cared for him, deeply, and I definitely liked him, but I couldn't tell if it was in a romantic way. 

I'd never been opposed to it, but I'd never felt any romantic way about another guy before. It made it hard to decode my thoughts and feelings. I turned my head to look at him and found him already searching my face curiously. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes slightly narrowed. 

"I don't know," I told him, furrowing my eyebrows. The lights were off in my room, making little shadows from the TV dance around his face. I found myself somehow glancing at his lips, then back up at his eyes. 

"Well we're out of popcorn," he raised the bowl in front of my face, taking the conversation in a completely different direction than I was expecting. 

"Do you want more?" I asked, already beginning to stand up, as I knew by now that he ate like a pig. 

"Yes, please," he drew out the please, and looked like a little kid as he pulled the covers up around his chin and turned back to the movie. 

I left without looking at him again, shaking my head to try and figure out what I wanted to happen. Did I want Cas to feel the same way about me? How did I even feel?

I tried not to think about it as I put another bag of popcorn in the microwave, turning around to see him standing two feet away from me. 

"Jesus, Cas, you scared me!" I laughed, putting a hand to his chest. He took a step forward and I felt my smile waver a little. 

"Sorry," he breathed, leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine. I was taken back by surprise, not expecting him to have even gotten out of bed, much less kiss me. 

But here we were, and based on the butterflies practically exploding in my stomach, I wasn't about to protest. Instead I moved my hand from my chest to putting both on his, while his hands moved to hold my jaw. He was incredibly insistent on walking forward and I ended up with my waist hitting the counter behind me, so I turned us and helped him so he was sitting on it, me standing between his legs. 

His mouth opened on mine and he deepened the kiss, his tongue running along my bottom lip. My hands moved to his waist, and fingers dug into his hips. He pulled away for a second, his hands still cupping my face and made eye contact with me. 

I'd looked into his eyes before, but I'd never exactly looked into them, in a situation similar to this, but they were fucking gorgeous, and although I wanted to keep staring into them, I wanted to kiss him even more. So I pulled him forward again and this time went straight for an open mouthed kiss. He didn't complain, though, only responding by touching mine with his heatedly and tightening his legs around my waist. He moaned against my mouth and I couldn't help but move my mouth to his neck.

His fingers wound into my hair- which I still hadn't ended up cutting- and tugged at the roots whenever I would bite. I pulled him even closer to me so our chests were flush and went back to kissing his mouth. 

The microwave went off next to us but all that told me was that we should go back to the bedroom, so I pulled his legs around my waist so his ankles were locked and picked him up. When we got to the bedroom, I accidentally slammed him into the doorframe instead of through the door. 

"Fuck," he muttered against my mouth. I smiled, but kept kissing him while I got us through the door and to the bed. I let him drop onto the middle of it, but didn't leave him laying there for long before I put my hands on either side of his head and put my mouth on his. 

He seemed to be good at multitasking, because while his tongue worked with mine, his hands slid up my shirt and spread on my stomach, pushing my shirt up to feel my chest. I pulled away briefly to pull it off and throw it across the room before doing the same with his. My eyes raked up his torso to his chest, where I bent down to start kissing back up to his neck. 

"Wait, wait, wait, Dean-"

"Yeah," I stopped, my hands on either side of his waist and looked up to meet his eyes, filled with heat and passion. 

"Are you..." we were both breathing heavily. "Are you okay?" he asked. 

"Yes, I'm very okay," I chuckled. "What do you mean?" I sat up, sitting on my legs and he pulled himself into a sitting position. 

"I honestly didn't mean to kiss you, it just sort of happened," he shook his head. 

"What?"

"No, I don't mean like, that I wish I wouldn't have, trust me," he laughed. "I'm just saying I wanted to make sure that you weren't going to just mute your feelings about Sam before I said anything about how I felt about you."

"Oh," I breathed. "I'm not muting my feelings about Sam."

He moved to his knees and started inching closer to me. "Are you sure?"

I moved up to my knees, too, "I'm sure." He was finally right in front of me and I grabbed his hips. "How do you feel about me?" I smirked. He rolled his eyes. 

This time when he kissed me, he didn't waste any time pushing me onto my back and sitting on my waist to do so. I didn't mind, of course, but I chuckled and muttered, "Eager?" He didn't respond, but rubbed his thumb across my cheek where his hands were holding my face. 21 Jump Street was still playing in the background, but neither of us really heard beyond our heavy breathing or small noises being made between kisses. 

"I leave you two alone for one hour!" 

We both froze, and Cas slowly sat up. I pressed my lips together to avoid smiling and sat up, Castiel still on my lap. Charlie stood with a huge smirk across her face and her arms crossed. 

"One. Hour," she walked towards the bed and Cas slid off, sitting next to me instead of on top of me. "And that's all it took for you two to go at it?"

We were both still pretty surprised that she was back so fast, and Cas was more bashful than me, but Charlie was relentless about it. 

"When did this start? Have you guys been going at it behind our backs this whole time? Are you even dating? Are you friends with benefits? I didn't even know you guys were that into each other!" 

I ignored her questions and asked, "Did you meet Natalie Portman?"

"As a matter of fact, yes I did, and it was at a CVS and I got a picture," she pulled out her phone and showed me her screensaver, which was of Natalie kissing her cheek. "It was incredible." She put her phone away. "But apparently I didn't have half as good a time as you guys! You thirsty mothertruckers." she shook her head. 

Eventually she stopped bombarding us with questions and Cas turned to me. I leaned forward to give him a quick kiss and then sat cross legged on the bed facing him. 

"Okay, what are we?" he asked. "Because that just happened, and now Charlie knows that it happened and I don't really think I can just go back to acting like it didn't happen."

"Me neither," I shrugged. I searched his face and rested my chin in my hand. "But I guess we can decide tomorrow when I take you out for brunch." I winked sarcastically. 

"Oh, brunch, hot," he laughed. 

"For now I wanna cuddle," I laid back and opened my arms wide, making him chuckle, but lay in them anyways. I sighed contently, wondering how this had happened. 

"Night," he grumbled, resting his head on my bare chest. 

"Night."


	7. chapter 7

I woke up to a weight on my chest. 

Not in the metaphorical sense. 

I sucked in a suffocated breath and opened my eyes to see a mess of a brown haired head on my chest. 

The memory of the previous night suddenly flooded my mind and I closed my eyes. 

I'm such an idiot. 

How could I let that happen? Why did I just go along with Castiel when he'd made the split decision to kiss me? I was so uncomfortable even now with him draped across me, how had I managed to get myself into the situation where we had been getting heated on my bed. 

I groaned internally, not rude enough to wake Castiel. 

I brought a hand to my face. It's because I'd been drinking and it was obvious that that was the answer to the question of why invading my mind. 

I shouldn't have had any alcohol, I'd vowed to myself that I wouldn't use it to get over Sam's death, and I lied to myself. 

I'd expected to think upon last night and remember the abundance of feelings coursing through me, but I didn't remember any and that scared me. I didn't feel anything, just like how it'd been when Sam first died. It bothered me in more ways than one, but mostly because I didn't want to admit to myself that I'd used Cas as a distraction last night. 

It was obvious that that was the case, though, and I didn't know how I'd let myself fall into that position. The whole day had been going better than I'd imagined the one month anniversary to go, but there was always that looming sense of depression nagging at the back of my mind. 

I'd ignored it all day, but when I used a "guy's night" as an excuse to drink, it was clear the night would go down hill from there. Addressing the issue that I hated to think about in my mind was incredibly hard, more so than I'd expected, so I took the opportunity before Cas woke up to slide out from under him, wincing when I heard the little whimper he let out when I stood up. But he remained asleep, only trying to nuzzle further into the pillows. 

I looked at him for a second longer, then checked my clock. It was only 7:45, so I got up and decided to go for a drive to clear my thoughts. Thankfully no one was awake yet, Jo had only gotten back from work three hours ago and Ellen was probably around the same. Charlie, though, either never slept or slept way too much, so she was probably passed out. 

I slid into my boots quietly, not bothering to take my jacket, grabbed my keys and slipped out the door. It had snowed last night, making the walk to my car quite difficult. The snow was crawling up my pajama pants and biting at my legs. I shook them out when I got into the car and blew out a steam of breath. I turned the heat all the way up to defrost me and started her right away. 

The streets were horrid, making me wonder if it was a good idea for me to drive in this weather, then remembering I honestly didn't give a shit. 

My brain turned to autopilot relatively quickly whilst I was cruising down the street and I got lost in my head again. 

I was overly irritated with myself for being a horrible friend to Cas like that. If he felt real, emotional feelings towards me and I just totally screwed him over last night, I would feel awful. 

But on the other hand, it's not like we did anything other than kiss. I could easily pass it off as a drunken mishap or say I was a complete light weight and didn't even remember what happened. 

Of course I probably wouldn't do that, considering the fact that I would not only feel horrible, but I'm also too bad of a liar for something like that. Whenever I lied I didn't blink and ended up with watery eyes and everyone thought I was crying, so, easy solution: don't lie. 

So I weighed my options carefully. It was a drunken mistake, it isn't like I would have done anything like that with a sober mind, but it wasn't exactly an easy thing to pass off as truthful because my mind hadn't been exactly sober lately in a sense of the word. I'd been so busy trying to distract myself from the truth that it'd gotten too far last night, and I realized that. It was just a scary thing to admit to myself, that I'd openly toyed with someone's emotions for my own benefit. 

I didn't know what I felt about Cas, sober at least. Buzzed, he looked like the best thing ever and I felt like I could have been with him all night. But completely alcohol free, I'd tried not to think about that. I tried not to think about a lot of emotions, and even though I'd admitted to myself that I cared about him, I'd admitted that about Jo, Ellen, Gunther and Charlie, too. I allowed myself the mental capacity to love these people regardless of anything else that happened, because they were my family when I had no one else. But they were nowhere near potential romantic investments and that was my worry. I'd rather not be romantically invested in Cas, because I wouldn't be able to tell if my intentions were purely innocent and out of love or if they were selfish and out of my own benefit. 

I was yanked back to reality by the sound of a car horn. I'd been sitting at a red light turned green for a while now, so I sped up and turned into the lot of a park. There was a small pond and an empty bench where Sammy and I used to play cards or have picnics as children. My whole brain told me to walk away because of how much it would hurt to sit alone in the place he'd been so often, but I slid out of the car anyways and started to stomp my way awkwardly through the snow to the bench. 

The pond looked to be frozen solid, so, naturally, I felt compelled to walk on it and that option sounded more appealing than sitting on a bench that felt haunted from twenty feet away. So I carefully began padding onto the slippery ice, taking note of some of the cuts in the ice that looked like they were from skates. There were houses curved around the pod but each was at least half an acre away from the park, meaning that one of the people living in those houses was probably dedicated to skating to walk even the slightest distance in the freezing weather. 

I tried to be cautious as I walked closer to the center of the pond, but it was hard when my feet kept sliding out from under me, causing me to stumble forward more and more. Eventually, though, I found a decent balance of right foot to left and stood with my hands in the pockets of my coat. The air was cold and the wind was biting at my face as if it were a frozen towel smacking my cheeks. 

I didn't mind, because it reminded me that I was here. And today already felt like one of the not so rare times that I would feel dysphoria. It wasn't so much that I was in the wrong body, but more that I shouldn't be in a body at all. It was a hard sensation to describe, seeing as I could barely make sense of it myself. It was where I just wanted to lay in my room (or Sam's) alone, where looking at a blank white ceiling with no noise and no stimulation from anyone or anything seemed more appealing than any other option I could think up. 

But I knew that wasn't exactly an option, not today at least, because I had to confront Cas, and try to explain how I felt without hurting him or myself. I shifted my weight to one leg and buried my face in my hands, rubbing my eyes tiredly. 

I just wanted to-

There was a splintering cracking noise before realization dawned upon me and my entire body was in flight mode. The ice was cracking beneath me. 

But it was too late for me to make it off the pond. The chunk of ice that I was standing on began to separate and before I could even think about stepping off of it, my feet were sliding down and I was clawing at the ice to stay above the water. I felt a sharp pain in my forearm, then everything was numb. 

The water was colder than anything I'd ever felt, to the point where I couldn't quite tell if it was burning me or freezing me, but nonetheless, I desperately worked at the ice to get myself up, both of my hands above the water , trying to lift me out of it. In the midst of my struggle I heard someone yell and I felt a pair of fuzzy hands gripping mine, working to get me out of the water. 

Eventually, with much help from whoever was on the other side of the ice, I gasped for air and lifted the top half of my body over the ice, dragging the rest of it out, too. I was inevitably shivering, my teeth chattering and my hands almost blue. My sight was blurry and everything seemed to be tinted with white, but I ended up finding the owner of the fuzzy hands- which turned out to be gloves. She was a young girl, probably only 17, and she was panting, too, a pair of ice skates lying next to her. 

"Oh, my god," she shook her head, standing on sturdy feet and reaching to help me stand. "Are you okay?" she asked, eventually getting me to my unsteady legs. "Oh, it's okay," she gasped, catching me when I almost fell. I was practically draped over her while she speed walked towards one of the houses that I'd been looking at earlier. I regretted at this point not wearing a coat, but my brain was so cold I could barely even form a coherent thought, so I didn't exactly put two and two together. 

That distance I'd addressed before seemed shorter than I'd anticipated, but that might have been because I blacked out a few times while we stumbled over to it. Finally, we made it to the door of one of the houses and I immediately felt a rush of warmth while the girl pulled me through the house, dripping wet. I wondered how she wasn't even a little irritated that I was dripping all over her kitchen, but I didn't exactly ponder on it because she pushed me into a big bathroom so I was sitting down on a closed toilet seat. I couldn't think straight or make my brain move my muscles, so she started to work on getting my boots off, starting to fill a huge bath tub with water between them. 

"Okay, I'm not making the water hot, because you've already had enough shock for one day," she chuckled, but I didn't get the joke. "So it's like luke warm, that's okay, right?" 

I mumbled a yes somehow and she instructed me to get into the bath. I shifted groggily and she grabbed my shoulders. "Uh," she scrunched her nose, trying to figure something out. "How do I go about this.... you know what, fuck it," she muttered and started to lift my shirt off of me. It was sticking to my skin pretty well, actually hurting at some points when it got to the middle of my torso. "Shit!" she cursed. "It's frozen to your skin," she looked me in the eye but I didn't respond at all. She started rushing around and my form began to sag from the sitting position. 

She returned a few moments later with what looked like a sponge and started pressing it to my torso and chest. It was really warm so I didn't protest, not that I exactly could have. "Okay, okay," she muttered under her breath, now slowly lifting my tshirt off and pressing the sponge on parts where it got stuck. "Alright," she breathed out when it was finally off, then turned the water filling the bath tub off. 

"Can you take off your pants?" she asked, grabbing my arms to stand me up. My legs started to buckle, and surprisingly she managed to shift my fall so I was sat on the edge of the bath tub. "I'll take that as a no," she shook her head and closed her eyes, then started to slide off my pajama pants, she was making a high pitched squeaking noise while she did so, barely looking at what she was doing before she apparently remembered that I had boxers on underneath. After removing my pajamas, but leaving on my underwear, she guided me into a sitting position in the bath, where supposed "luke warm" water felt like it was boiling against my cold skin. 

"Oh my-" the words started to come out and I tried to get out of the bath. 

"No, no, you have to stay in to bring your temperature back up!" she scolded, pushing me back down so the water went up to my chin. Eventually it started to feel better, and was warm instead of scalding. 

"Okay, I'm gonna get you some clothes to change into... don't... drown, okay?" she asked, only leaving when I nodded tiredly. I didn't have the energy to move, or the brain movement really as I sank lower into the warm water. I could barely even remember why I was in it, only vaguely seeing the ice before I life dunked into the water like a dick older brother. 

So I waited in the bath as I got warmer and warmer for the girl to come back. 

At this point my mind was still defrosting, so I just not recognized the fact that I was in the house of a random teenage girl- or more likely, her parents. I would've gotten up and cared more but I still felt as though all of my limbs were dead weight, and also I expected that she was home alone considering the fact that she brought a random frozen man into her home. 

She came back what seemed like hours later, with a pile of clothes littering her arms. She caught sight of me and gasped. "Why are you laying so far down!?" she practically shouted, dropping the clothes on her sink and running to push me up. She sighed, sitting on the edge of the tub, her clothes practically sopping now. 

As my mind seemed to regain consciousness, I shook my head. "You... should change," I was able to mutter. "It's cold outside."

She laughed, "We're more worried about you right now... can you stand?" she asked, rising and offering me her hand. I took it, and used it to balance some of my weight while I stood, and she handled it well, barely even straining to help me. 

My legs were still shaky now, but were able to hold my weight with minimal help from blondie. She guided me so I was standing on the rug right outside of the bath and jogged over to a rack that held an abundance of fluffy towels, grabbing two and approaching me. 

"I trust you can dry off and change by yourself?" she smirked and I nodded. 

"Yeah, I... I got it," I grinned back. 

"Okay, well... I'll be in the kitchen. It's out the door and," she pointed right. "All the way down the hall. Hot chocolate or cider?" she smiled at the end of her sentence. 

I pondered for a moment holding one of the towels in front of me, "Cider."

"Gotcha," she said as she walked out and closed the door behind her. 

While I dried myself off with the insanely plush and soft towels, I cracked my bones, wincing when the cold still in them made it hurt more than usual. It was a weird feeling so I stopped immediately and tied the towel around my waist, turning to stumble towards the clothes she'd left on the counter. There was a Def Leopard tshirt, sweatpants, new boxers and a cardigan. I ditched the cardigan and changed into everything else, tossing my old boxers into the trash. I followed my intuition (it was so hard) and threw the towels down the laundry shoot, then followed her instructions to walk slowly and creakily to the kitchen, where she was sitting at the table reading a book and sipping what I figured to be cider or hot chocolate. 

She looked up when I walked in, "Hey stranger!" she exclaimed, then took a sip of her drink. "Literally."

I chuckled and sat across from her when she motioned me down. She stood and grabbed a mug from the microwave, setting it in front of me before sitting back down. 

"So... how are you feeling?" she asked, taking a hard swig of her drink. 

"Uh..." I began, putting my hands around my cup to warm them further. "Groggy," I shrugged. "But... incredibly grateful that you were there," I nodded, looking at her. "Really, it was incredible what you did and... thank you."

"Of course, I wasn't about to let you freeze to death," she said, chuckling after. "Although honestly, you could have. I just followed my gut when I put you in the tub, so... thank god that worked!"

I furrowed my eyebrows but nodded. "Anyways..." I mumbled and took a sip of my cider. It burned down my throat and I coughed. "What's in this!?" 

"A hell of a lot of rum, that's for sure," she shrugged, drinking hers again. "I figured you'd want it."

"How old are you?" I shook my head, back to drinking the cider and rum because I had to admit it wasn't bad. 

"Sixteen," she answered, sipping hers innocently. "But I have raspberry vodka in mine. It makes the hot chocolate more flavorful," she smiled over the cup. "What's your name? Since I saved you and all I think I deserve to know."

I looked into the cup and then back at her, "I'm Dean." I stretched my hand over the table to shake hers. "And you are?" 

"Claire," she shook it with a half smile. I finally took the time to notice her appearance since last time I remembered seeing her she was in a winter coat, and hat bundled up completely. Her hair was braided in some parts, but thrown up into a messy bun. She was wearing an ACDC shirt and I was guessing pajama pants. 

"Nice to meet you," I took a gulp of my drink and she nodded back politely. "Where are your parents, if you don't mind my asking? I figured they would notice if there was a freezing man in your house."

She narrowed her eyes at me from across the table. "You're not a murderer are you?"

"Not yet."

"Rapist?"

"Nope."

"Kidnapper?"

"No."

"Alright. They're both away on 'business' but my dad had an affair a few months ago and I'm guessing they're having a three way with the guy he had an affair with," she shrugged nonchalantly. My eyes practically popped out of my head. The guy her dad had an affair with? A three way? Why did she know this and more importantly why was she so casual about it!?

"Uh...oh?" It ended up sounding like a question seeing as I was so incredibly confused. 

She burst out laughing and hit the table with her palm, then looked back up at me. "Yeah, they suck," she managed to say, tipping her hot chocolate back until it was gone. 

"So should I not mention the underage drinking then?" I smirked, narrowing my eyes at her slightly. 

"I'm gonna go with no," she responded quickly. "Considering I saved your life."

"Alright, I can accept that," I shrugged. "Plus you seem to have decent taste in music."

She nodded, "Indeed I do."

We remained quiet for a while, only exchanging a few words once I finished my drink and she asked if I wanted more. I shook my head. 

Now that my brain was working correctly, I thought back to why I'd been out on the pond anyways. I was trying to run away from my problems, from Cas and Ellen and Charlie and Jo. From the fact that I used Cas for my own benefit last night. 

"What's on your mind, kid?" she asked, setting the new cup of hot chocolate and vodka she'd made herself down in front of her. I looked up at her with an as if I would tell you face and she shrugged. "Who am I gonna blab to?" I considered this. 

"Alright, I guess," I shrugged. "I guess I'll have to start from the beginning-"

"Here we go."

I rolled my eyes but continued. "A month ago, my brother Sam... he overdosed," there was immediate sympathy in her eyes. "And... it's been really hard for me. But I've been better recently, I've been sad, but better... but there's this guy who's been staying with us- me, my cousins, my aunt and I," I addressed Gunther, Charlie, Jo and Ellen as what they practically were to me. "His name is Castiel and he was... well he was the funeral coordinator, but he was one of my cousin's friends in high school, so he's over a lot..." I trailed off and she pushed the hot chocolate towards me. I chuckled but took it. It was really good. "And I've grown sort of closer to him. I'd consider us really close friends and last night, we were home alone, just the two of us... and we were drinking-"

"Oh god, you fucked him!" she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, eyes wide. 

"No! No, I didn't fu- we didn't have sex!" I explained, shocked by her crude vocabulary for such a sweet looking girl. "But we kissed. A lot. And he sort of let it slip that he has feelings for me. And I don't think I feel the same way... I mean ever since Sammy died, I've barely even felt a sense of loss towards him, much less romantic feelings towards someone," I shook my head. "And I came out to the pond behind your house because Sammy and I used to come here as kids-"

"Without a coat," she interrupted. 

"Yes, mom, without a coat," I rolled my eyes. "And I feel bad because I know the only reason I let Cas kiss me is because he was a distraction from Sam. And I felt terrible- feel terrible and I don't know what to tell him."

She hummed a little and set her head in her hand, clicking her fingers on the table thoughtfully. "Well exactly how drunk were you?"

"Barely."

"Okay... why don't you tell him the truth?" she asked. "That seems like the easiest solution."

"But Cas is such a sweet, upbeat guy I don't wanna hurt him!" I responded, putting a hand up in the air. 

"Okay, but why don't you just explain that you were having a bad night and... I don't know you just weren't yourself? It's not like you guys banged or anything, it's not that big of a deal," she shrugged again, taking the cup back and drinking some. 

"I know, I know," I nodded in agreement. "I still feel bad that he said he has feelings for me."

"Well, he seems like a nice guy I'm sure he'll understand."

I sighed. "He is and he probably will." 

"I get it if you don't want to go back yet, though," she whispered, as if we weren't the only ones in the house. 

"I don't really," I laughed. 

"You can stay as long as you like!"

"Alright," I nodded. "Thanks, dude," I put out my fist and she touched hers with it. 

I think I'd just found a new little sister.


	8. chapter 8

"Are you sure you wanna take me back? What if you're an axe murderer and I don't know it?" Claire asked as we walked across the park and back to my car, hours after I'd fallen into the pond. 

I rolled my eyes and tugged at the sleeves of the sweatshirt she'd given me. Apparently the man her father had an affair with was young and buff enough that his stash of clothes at her house would fit me. I didn't argue. 

"I guess you'll find out then," I shrugged. "But I don't think it's a good idea for you to stay home alone, especially if you're drunk."

She scoffed and walked around my car to the passenger side. "I am not drunk, I barely had any-" We both tugged on the handles only to find that both doors were locked. 

"Oh no," I whispered, as if by some heavenly miracle the back doors would be unlocked. She seemed to have the same idea as we both pulled the handles and neither of them gave. "No, this can't be happening!" I put a hand to my head. "Dammit!"

"We're locked out?" she asked, shaking her head at me. 

"I didn't even think to grab my keys!" I put my forehead against the window only to see my keys resting right on the driver's seat. "So close..."

"Can't you call someone?" Claire asked, an exasperated tone to her voice. "Or did you leave your phone in there, too?"

I blinked, looking at my phone sitting on the center console between the seats. "Yeah."

"Okay, well shouldn't people be looking for you? You've been at my house for like seven hours, Dean," she made eye contact with my through the other window. 

"First of all no one is going to go out in this weather, and second of all they probably aren't worried that I ditched out," I shrugged. "I leave without warning all the time."

She smirked. "We could always take my car."

***

We ended up in a yellow bug , me in the driver's seat after much arguing about her being too drunk to drive. 

"I'm literally not drunk, Dean!"

"I don't care you had way more to drink than I did," I had stopped after that first cup of cider, not expecting to be there for ours upon hours. 

"Whatever," she sighed. "Where do you live anyway?" She shifted to put her feet on the dashboard. 

"Put your seatbelt on," I muttered. She rolled her eyes but obliged. "And not too far only like 10 minutes." The snow had been plowed by now, so my experience driving home was far less strenuous than the ride to the park. 

"Fine," she sighed. 

In our hours of talking, I learned that apparently sweet-looking Claire had been experimenting with drugs for the past year, but had since then stopped. Her family was never there and she was home alone more often and not. She explained how the man her father had had an affair with- Alex- was his business partner and was staying with them because he originally lived in Toronto, but came down to Missouri for the company they worked for. He was always really nice and seemed incredibly shy to her until one day she'd heard him calling her father a- and I quote- "Dirty slut" and hitting his ass while they made breakfast one morning. Granted, they hadn't known anyone else was home, seeing as Claire skipped school that day, but the surprise was still there. 

When her mother found out about the cheating, she'd been more interested in their sexual relationship, according to Claire at least. She said that her mom would ask if they were kinky and even if they would be open to a three way, hence why she thought that's why they were out on "business". 

I pulled up to the bunker, tossing the keys to Claire and hitting my head on my way out. Cas's car wasn't there.

I lead her to the door and instructed, "Do not say anything to them about what I told you, okay?"

She put her hands up in surrender, "Fine, fine, I won't! Don't act like you're my dad you're only eight years older than me, Dean."

I rolled my eyes but opened the door and walked in, the first thing in my line of view Charlie sitting on the couch, arms crossed and eyes narrowed seemingly waiting for me to come home. 

"And where, young man, have you been?" she asked, standing up from her position. I side stepped slightly so Claire was now visible to her. Her eyebrows furrowed. "Who's this?"

"I'm Claire," she waved slightly, smiling small. 

Charlie tilted her head to the side slightly and tried to smile. "Oh," she walked forward to shake her hand and said, "Well, I'm Ch-"

"Charlie," she finished with a wider smile now. "I know."

She dropped her hand and looked at me in question. "Well, Dean... uh... Can I... talk to you? In private, please?"

Claire tilted her head to the side and looked at me strangely. 

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged and followed her into my room. Once the door was closed she hit me hard on the arm. "Ow!"

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"What are you talking about, Charlie? What the hell?" I put my hand up to block her next punch. 

"How do you think Castiel felt this morning when he woke up expecting to see you and talk about what happened and finding you gone? Not to mention with some teenage girl? That you've been with all day?!" she whisper yelled. 

"Charlie, Claire is just a friend! I only met her this morning and she saved my life, chill!" I put my hands up in front of my face to protect it from her. 

"What do you mean she 'saved your life'? What happened?" she shook her head but now concern clouded her features. 

"I mean I was standing on a frozen pond and it broke and I couldn't get back up," I explained. "I don't know what else there is to tell."

"Oh my god, how did she find you?"

"She was coming out to ice skate, I don't know," I shrugged. "But she took me in and put me into a hot bathtub then gave me apple cider and rum and we just talked."

"How old is she?"

"Sixteen," I answered hesitantly, only now really considering that it seemed a little sketchy for a twenty-four year old to invite a sixteen year old back to his place. 

"And you let her drink!?" 

"Charlie, shut up, she saved my life and it's not like I didn't drink when I was her age!" I argued. 

"Okay, you know what, fine, I get why you're with her. But you need to call Castiel right now and apologize for leaving," she pointed to the door. 

"I don't know if I can do that..." I mumbled. 

"Why?" she shook her head. "You should have seen him this morning he looked like a lost puppy."

"Because I didn't mean to kiss him!"

"What?"

"Charlie, I was drunk, I didn't mean to kiss him and I didn't mean to let it get as far as it did," I explained in a hushed tone. "I don't feel anything towards Cas instead of friendship."

By the way her face changed I knew that she understood what was going on because she moved from irritation to anger really quickly. "You didn't, Dean. He's a sweet guy, you did not play with his emotions for your own benefit."

"Charlie, I didn't mean to!"

"Don't," she shook her head. "You're an asshole." She turned and walked out of the room, back to where Claire was and I followed closely behind. 

"So, you saved Dean's life, huh?" she asked, turning to see where Claire had sat herself on the counter next to the microwave. I looked away. 

"That I did," I heard the victory in her voice. 

"Let's celebrate by getting lunch. Dean has a phone call to make."

"Wait!" I grabbed her arm. "Why did Cas leave?"

"He has work, Dean," she scoffed. "Not everyone is able to never leave home for a month just because shit happens."

My mouth fell open. "Because shit. Happens?" 

"You know what I mean, Dean," she narrowed her eyes at me, but I could see that she immediately regretted her choice of words. 

"So my brother- my best friend dies and all you think is 'Well, shit happens!'?" my hands balled into fists at my sides. 

"Dean, don't go there," she almost growled. 

"No, Charlie- you know what, I knew you didn't give a fu-"

"Okay, okay," Claire came between us and pushed at my shoulders so I'd back away from Charlie. "Let's not fight, kids, and say something we'll regret when we're all sensitive."

"Get out of this and go listen to some Kidz Bop, okay, Claire?" Charlie scowled. 

"Look, Charlie, I know your beef isn't with me, but chill, okay?" she replied calmly. 

"No, because what do you think you're gonna get out of Dean, huh? Do you think he's gonna care about you?"

"What?"

"Do you think he'll want to be with you?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked. 

"Because Dean only ever gives a shit about himself!" she yelled. 

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're the one who told me that I needed to take care of myself! Don't bring this back to me, okay, I know I fucked up with Cas last night but you don't need to be such a dick about it!"

Charlie approached me and this time blondie side-stepped out of the way, quietly observing. She pushed me. "There's a difference between taking care of yourself and taking advantage of other people's thoughts and feelings for your own benefit! Castiel is a sweet innocent little guy and you fucked up big time!" I heard the door open, and I honestly didn't blame Claire for leaving. 

"Look, Charlie, I get it, okay? I know Cas didn't deserve it because he's a nice guy, but guess what? If you kiss someone while they're drunk, chances are they'll kiss you back. And you know what? I did kiss him back and sure, it was a mistake, but at the time it wasn't because yesterday was a hard day for me! I deserved some sort of happiness and I got it through him! We both won so what the fuck is there to keep yelling at me about!?" I shouted at her, shaking my head when her face completely dropped. "What? Are you gonna tell me that since I'm such an asshole, I'll tell Castiel that I don't feel shit towards him? That what happened last night won't happen again because it wasn't real for me?"

"Dean-"

"You know what? Now maybe I will just to prove what a narcissistic dick I really am-"

"Dean, stop-"

"I'll tell him that I was having a hard fucking day and he was right there, so why not?"

"Dean!" this time is was Claire's voice that yelled at me, and I turned to see her still standing in the kitchen. 

She hadn't left. 

I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes. 

Shit.

I opened them and pressed my lips together before turning around to see Castiel standing behind me with Jo by his side, his expression completely blank and hers filled with fury. He licked his lips and turned to walk out. 

I was frozen in place, too surprised that they had entered at that time to do anything until the door slammed shut behind him. Only then did I jolt back to reality and start going after him. I was on the porch, jogging to catch up with him when I yelled, "Cas, wait!"

He kept walking down the street, past his car. I was running, though, so I caught up quickly. I grabbed his arm and he turned to look at me. His face was still devoid of emotions as I began to plead with him. 

"Cas, I swear I didn't mean that in there, okay? Honestly I don't regret-"

"Dean calm down, it's okay," he interrupted very calmly. He put a hand on my shoulder and made me look him in the eye. "Honestly. I understand that yesterday was Sam's one month anniversary, I've dealt with other patients in this situation before."

My mouth dropped open when he addressed as a patient. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I get what you're going through, and I shouldn't have been drinking with you on a day like yesterday, okay? I get that," he nodded. "I should have stayed sober and made you stay sober, too, what I did was very unprofessional. That's my fault."

I pushed his hand off of my shoulder and took a step back. "You don't have to be professional with me, Cas, that's the whole point of us being friends."

"No. Dean. You've always been a patient. All I've been doing this month is trying to cheer you up," he assured. Every word his mouth said felt like a punch in the gut. "I've been here for Jo, too, but you've been our main concern."

"Our man concern?" I shook my head. 

"I'm a therapist, Dean," he told me. 

"What?"

"Jo and I were friends in high school, that's true, but I'm not a funeral director, I'm a therapist. She saw what you were going through after Sam died and she called me, she thought I could help you," he nodded. "And I did, and that's all that matters here. Last night was a mistake and whether or not you regret what I happened, I do."

Somehow this all turned on me. Suddenly I wasn't the one using him, now it was him using me. 

"You... what?" I didn't understand. "Where's all this coming from, Cas? I thought-"

"I know what you thought, Dean," he was rigid and not at all comfortable and friendly like he usually was. "But it doesn't matter now because I don't think that we should continue treatment."

"I didn't even know I was going through treatment," I laughed humorlessly. "Cas, stop this, tell me you're joking."

"Sorry, Dean," he shrugged and turned around kept walking, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. 

I was left standing there in the rigid cold, disbelief and betrayal fighting in my mind. Eventually I turned around and walked back into my home, seeing all three girls talking in the kitchen. They all turned to look at me when I entered. 

Jo stood and began approaching me. 

"Don't say anything," I interrupted before she could say a word. "Who do you think you are, Jo?"

"What?" she took a step back. 

"You think it's okay to hire me some therapist to work on the down low to fucking cure me of my loss?" I stepped towards her so I had to look down to meet her eyes. "You had no right to lie to me about Cas or make me think that he was some kind of friend to me. So fuck you, Jo."

"Wait, Dean, you don't understand, Cas really-"

"Don't even try to spew me any 'Cas really is your friend' bullshit, okay? Because he told me everything and you know what? I don't know what I'm feeling right now honestly, because it's a mix between complete and utter fucking betrayal and also the feeling that I should've seen this coming because this is what you do, isn't it? You blame shit on other people, telling me that maybe if I cared more Sam would still be alive and then you go behind me back and hire some phony fucking therapist to fix me? I don't need to be fixed, Jo, okay? I need honest friends, and I guess I don't have any of those!"

"No, stop, Cas quit last night!" I paused at this. "He told me when I came home from work what happened and that he had feelings for you and he couldn't pretend anymore."

"Well fucking good for him, Jo," I shrugged. "I don't care what Cas- or should I call him Dr. Novak did last night! I care what you did, and I want you out." I pointed to the door. 

"Are you kidding me right now?" she scoffed. "You're kicking me out? Why, because I cared enough to get you help when you wouldn't even leave your bedroom or eat? Sorry that Cas helped you, really I am! Sorry for caring so much that I wanted you to get through this."

"Out. Your mother can stay, I don't care but I don't ever want to see you again, Jo," I crossed my arms.

"You're being ridiculous, I didn't do-"

"Go!" I shouted. 

She shook her head and smiled but left.


	9. chapter 9

The rest of that week passed slowly and quickly all at once. The days felt long and drawn out but it was Saturday before I knew it.

Claire had gone out with Charlie multiple times and come home to hang out with us almost every day. She'd make us laugh and drank like a damn pirate, and we found a way to forget that she was still a child. Proving just what fantastic influences we were on her undeveloped mind, Charlie and I helped to make her a fake ID.

But it was hard to restrain myself from drinking since that night. I had to tell myself every morning and every night that turning to alcohol for that 'extra boost' I claimed to myself wasn't worth it. It was the only thing that kept me from being hammered all day every day. 

It was 11 am and I'd just woken up, figuring Charlie and Claire either hadn't gone to bed or were still sleeping. I made the split decision to make breakfast and figured if they were up- or even if they weren't, Claire ate like a pig- they'd smell it and come get some. I went through all the motions of cracking eggs and cooking bacon but I was done before I expected myself to be and when I turned around to sit at the table, I almost dropped the plates because Claire was sitting at the table with her hands folded in front of her. 

"Good morning," she tilted her head to the side. 

"Morning," I grumbled back, setting a plate in front of her and reaching behind me to grab silverware. 

I sat across from her and she asked with food in her mouth, "Guess who texted me last night?"

"That Nathan kid you were telling us about?" I asked back around the eggs in my mouth. 

"Well, yeah, but my dad did, too," she shrugged. "Apparently he and Alex will be home next Thursday."

"Alex?" I furrowed my eyebrows. 

"Yeah," she nodded, shoveling her food into her mouth. "He said my mom is staying in the Bahamas for a while. I didn't even know they went to the Bahamas."

"Why is Alex coming back?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Fuck if I know. They'll probably claim it's business then I'll have the joy of hearing their 'business' at two am some night."

"Well, you're always welcome to stay at the bunker," I told her. "We'll always have those extra rooms open."

"Yeah, let me just tell them I'm gonna go stay with my 24 year old guy friend and his lesbian friend," she scoffed. 

"Knowing what you've told me about your parents, they won't care," I furrowed my eyebrows. 

"That's actually true," she paused. "Sometimes I forget that my parents don't give a shit about me."

I stayed silent, not able to muster a nice response, so I just got up to get myself another helping of food. She grunted and I turned around, ready to take her plate and fill it, too. "Is Charlie still asleep?"

Claire sighed, "No, she's trying to unlock my dad's emails for me so we can spy on his 'business' with Alex."

"Nice," I said softly while I handed her plate back to her. 

"Hey, Claire!?" she called from the back room. "Your dad's name is Arthur, right?"

"Yeah, why?" she responded. 

"His password was 'bigdickarthur'," she chuckled, carrying her laptop into the kitchen and sitting at the end seat between Claire and I, her laptop in front of her. "Be prepared, Claire, some of these are explicit."

"Oh, God," she laughed, but looked to inspect the emails eagerly. 

"Okay, this one is called 'Til Next Week'," Charlie cleared her throat and read in a deep voice, "'It's been too long, Alex. I've been a top for three months without you'" she broke character to stifle a laugh. "'Mary is getting restless, and is really pushing a three way. Would you mind if I invited her to the Islands with us-' oh my god, get ready for this line, 'She said she's okay with anal. Could be fun. See you next week. Love you.'"

"Wait, he loves Alex?" Claire furrowed her eyebrows. "Keep going."

"Are you sure you're okay to read this Claire?" I asked, starting to close the laptop. She stopped me and nodded.

"I'm fine, trust me, Dean," she smiled small. 

"Oh my god, this one is called 'You Stretch My Heart'. Your dad's a sap," Charlie snorted.

"I think this is where I'm gonna take my leave," I told them, placing my plate in the sink and heading to my room.

"Your loss!" they called when I shut the door behind me. I wasn't sure what I'd wanted to do today.

I'd thought about heading back to that little cafe Castiel had taken me to so long ago, but I wasn't sure what I'd do there. It had been a while since I'd listened to Sammy's spoken essays or read through his notes, and there was an abundance that I hadn't gone through, so I decided to do that. I grabbed a few notebooks and headphones, then his phone from the top of my dresser.

I sighed, then changed so I wouldn't look a total bum, because even though I didn't care how I looked, Charlie would scold me and tell me to at least try to look semi-presentable, so i thought I'd skip the humiliation. I went for my usual jeans and a flannel, and walked out the door with all my papers and phones in check. I waved goodbye to the girls, ignoring the explicit context they were giggling over and grabbing my keys.

Claire and I had picked up Baby from the park at the end of the day I found out Cas was really hired to fix me.

The drive to the cafe was more difficult than I'd have cared to admit, seeing as the only other time I'd been there I was barely conscious, but I ended up there which was a plus. I took all of my hoarded supplies and placed them at a table in the corner of the shop, thankful that there were only a few people scattered here and there, but the line was empty.

"Hello, sir, what can I get for you?" the familiar man smiled at me over the cash register.

"Uhm, can I get a... vanilla cappuccino?" I asked. I'd never been big on coffee, but I decided to try it.

"Size?"

"Medium?"

"Of course, that'll be $2.25, what is your name?" He entered his info into the register, pulled out my receipt, and a sharpie to write my name in one swift movement.

"Uh-"

"Dean?" someone asked to my left.

"Yeah, Dean," I confirmed, my mind taking a moment to realize that someone had just called me. I placed the money on the counter and turned to my left.

"That'll be right up for you, sir," he said perkily.

I froze when I saw Cas standing in his usual trench coat, but in a suit today.

I'd never seen him in a suit without looking spectacularly depressing or completely exhausted when he'd been attacked by rabid dogs.

"Cas," I breathed.

"Hey, uh... what's up?" he scratched the back of his neck. "What are you doing here?"

I stuttered as I answered, "Well, Claire and Charlie are at home, and I wanted to get... get out for a little while."

"Oh," he nodded. "Well it's good to see you?" It was a statement but his voice went up a lot at the end so I just nodded in agreement. 

There was so much awkward silence that I wasn't surprised to hear the barista call my name, giving me an excuse to walk away, grab my coffee and sit down. Immediately I put my headphones on and listened opened Sam's phone, going to voice memos and listening to a spoken essay called "The Choice of Love" which I thought seemed a little strange, but listened to nonetheless. 

"Love is a complicated thing. And many people think it's a feeling but really, it's not. Love is a choice. By this I do not mean to say that feelings are not involved in love. No, what I mean is that love is not an emotion, or an adjective, but it's a verb. Love is a constant state of devotion to another person, whether it is a romantic love or a relative love. It starts with friendship, more often than not, and then blooms into something different. It's like a type of sickness in a sense, because you do get the feelings, or in this case symptoms. They include a sensitive stomach, sometimes dizziness, and the inability to eat or sleep. But you also get long term symptoms, too, which make up the choices for love. Once you heal-"

I pull the headphones off, convincing myself that it's because Sam is talking in circles, and I need to do something different, and it's not because I can see Cas's back facing me and I need to occupy my eyes with something else. Either way I open one of his psychology notebooks and examine the doodles all over his pages and his unique handwriting. Eventually I got to an interesting page that I actually read thoroughly instead of just skimming, because what he'd written wasn't notes, but what seemed like a note. My eyebrows furrowed and I blinked to make sure I was seeing right when the top said 'Dean'.

Dean,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! 

This is probably going to be a weird letter, considering I usually buy you a stupid card, which I might end up doing anyways, for your birthday. But I'm gonna try to write something heartfelt this year. 

Yeah, I know "Haha, Sammy, you're such a sap", I get it, but we don't talk about this usually and I think we should, even if it's just in writing. So here goes:

You're a really great guy, Dean. You never gave up on me, and you're helping me through college- which I'm ignoring while writing this card, oops. Anyways. 

Bobby was so proud of you, and you have no idea the extent of his pride. We know you never like it when we read your stories or poems, but we love to read them. Bobby found one of your old stories- it was the one about us being demon hunters and incorporating Dad's death into the story. He came looking for me when he was reading it, and he wouldn't shut the hell up about what good quality your writing was. We started to save up to get your story published, but... he died before we could. 

I want you to know that I kept trying to save up, but I needed the money for something, and I'm so sorry.

Without any consent from my brain, my throat began to close. 

I pushed away from the table, causing the chair to make a horrid scraping noise against the ground. Before my eyes filled with tears and closed, I saw Cas glance back at me, then jump up when I covered my mouth. 

I knew what he needed that money for, and he had to have known that I knew. 

It was the same reason he wasn't here right now. 

He "needed" it. 

I felt hands on my knees and I opened my eyes to see Castiel crouching in front of me, reaching up to touch the side of my face. 

"Hey, hey, hey," he whispered. "Breathe." He stood up and began gathering up all of my things and my hands were shaking terribly when he took one is his own and started to lead me out of the shop. 

The bell on the door rang out behind us and right when the cold air hit me I was able to suck in a deep breath and press my head against the brick wall on the outside of the cafe. "Shit," I breathed out, squeezing Cas's hand. His other hand moved to rub my back while I got over the growing panic attack at the reminder of Sam's problems. 

Finally I was able to take in a normal amount of breath, albeit shakily, and I lifted off the wall to look at Castiel. 

"I'm going to drive you home, okay?" he told me, dropping my hand and turning professional and awkward again. My notebooks and Sam's phone were tucked awkwardly into the crook of his elbow and against his chest still. 

I didn't try to assure him that I was fine to drive, because I honestly knew that I wasn't. But I did notice the emptiness in my chest when he dropped my hand and my mind thought back to Sam's written essay. It's like a type of sickness in a sense, because you do get the feelings, or in this case symptoms.

I shook my head and followed Cas back to his car, sliding into the passenger's seat and staying quiet the whole ride home, aside from when my throat made a pitiful whimpering noise and he reached over to place a comforting hand on my knee. Neither of us addressed us, but when we pulled up to the bunker he moved it. 

"Castiel," I started. 

"Dean... you don't have to say anything," he shook his head. "Honestly, I couldn't just let you have a full blown anxiety attack in the middle of a restaurant." He shrugged and handed me the stack of things I'd brought with me. I shifted so I was holding it just in my left arm. 

"That's not what I was going to say anything about," I said softly. 

"Oh... well you don't have to say anything about that, either," he blushed. 

"Jo told me that you quit after that... happened," I informed him. He turned to meet my eyes. "Cas, I'm sorry for what I said to Charlie, okay? But honestly, I don't even remember what I was feeling when... that happened. I barely remember what I've been feeling for the past few weeks, even days."

"I understand, Dean," he assured. "Really, don't worry about it."

"I am worried about it, Cas," I whispered. "Even if you didn't see me as a friend, I saw you as one. A really close one. And I was just getting used to the idea of having you around when I found out... Jo's stupid... stupidity." 

"It's not her fault, I-"

"No, it is her fault, Cas. You were doing your job."

"If it makes you feel better, I didn't think of you as a patient. The only time I ever remembered you were supposed to be was when Jo would slip me checks," he shrug. "I always wanted to give them back, because I genuinely enjoyed my time with you. I didn't think there was anything wrong with you," he turned to look at me. "There isn't anything wrong with you, Dean. Nothing, okay? So just because Jo hired me, you shouldn't think that you needed to be fixed, because you don't. Don't ever change, Dean."

I remained silent, not quite knowing what to say. We sat in silence. 

"You should probably go in," he whispered, leaning towards me with a small smirk. "They'll get curious."

I looked at him and he was only a few inches away. I swallowed, then made the split decision and leaned forward, pressing my lips to his quickly and holding his face with my right hand. His hand touched my other arm just before I pulled back and got out, walking to the door of the bunker. 

That time I definitely felt something.


	10. chapter 10

When I got inside, Claire and Charlie were still sitting at the table, but this time Claire was blindfolded and trying to put makeup on Charlie, who was laughing hysterically. I sighed and tried to sneak past them. 

"You're back early," she commented, looking at me over a blonde head of hair. 

"Yeah, I ran into-" I stopped, deciding it would be better if I didn't mention Castiel. "The restaurant got crowded so I left."

"Alright," shrugged and Claire took her blindfold off, then they both laughed. I rolled my eyes and began to walk back to my room. 

"Wait, Dean, guess what!" she stopped me, grabbing my arm with a blindfold still strung across her hair. I looked at her expectantly. "My mom apparently has known that my dad was cheating on her for six years, and it's been with Alex every time. One of the emails said that she was having an affair with him at one point, too and he knew that they were married, so they weren't mad when they found out about the affair."

I pulled my arm gently from her grip and said softly, "Your parents are a mess." 

"I know," she grinned halfheartedly. I looked down, then kept going to my room.

Sometimes it almost bothered me what a constant state of calm Claire was always in. It wasn't normal for her to just not care that her parents were cheating on her with the same person. It should upset her that they don't care about what happens to her. It should make her sad that if she told them she was staying with a 24 year old man they wouldn't ask questions. 

So as I locked the door behind me and threw my stack of work onto my bed I sat on the edge, burying my face in my hands. It wasn't normal for her to never be bothered, especially as a teenager. I decided to dismiss it for now, despite the fact that it was a constant nagging in the back of my mind. 

I wanted to finish reading the birthday note, but I figured I would have to eventually talk to Cas about it. For some reason I wanted him to be there with me when it happened. His presence was incredibly calming to me, and I couldn't tell if it was because it's what he trained to be as a therapist or if it was because I had feelings for him. 

I'd known him for over a month now and I hadn't known he was supposed to be a therapist the whole time, so it made sense that I would just feel that fondness about him either way. I couldn't just trust my emotions, though, because they were strewn all over the place. I wasn't able to decipher one from another, even though somewhere in the back of my mind there was the thought that I was just trying to protect myself from losing someone I love again.

After what I figured had been fifteen minutes of me stewing in my own thoughts, I pulled Sam's phone from the stack of notebooks and opened back to where I'd been listening to The Choice of Love. I didn't quite know how it fit into his psychology/law majors, but I knew he had his reasons. This time I didn't put headphones in and pressed play, laying back on my bed. 

"Once you heal, or in other words, the feelings go aw- shit. Ugh, okay Sam. *clears throat* Once the symptoms fade away, what you're left with is nothing. You no longer feel the heat that was once there, but instead only lingering fondness. You care about whoever- whomever? Dammit"

I chuckled when I realized that this must have been a rough draft and continued to listen.

"You still care about whomever you had the feelings for, but the feelings are no longer as heighted as they once were at the beginning. What this means is that you're past what people call the "honeymoon stage" or staying true to the metaphor, the brute of the sickness. You're left with- at first- a hangover type feeling. It's not exactly as bad as a hangover, but it gives you thoughts of 'Why am I not feeling this anymore? Did something go wrong?' and now you don't exactly know what to do. During this stage you just have to push through it, because there is nothing wrong with you. This is just your hormones balancing and adjusting to having this new person in your life. There's nothing wrong with it. 

For some people the honeymoon stage will last months, even years. But for others, who take emotions more seriously, it will only last for a few mere days or weeks. These people are usually distant from their emotions and would prefer not to have them. It would take serious suggesting to get this person to even recognize the honeymoon stage at all. If anything they would probably think of it as an illness and want it to end as soon as possible. I know someone like this. 

And I've experienced first hand what his thoughts and feelings are on love and feelings. He accepts his family as all he has, which is, all in all very admirable. But he puts up a wall between himself and anyone who might have the potential of being something else. His name is D-"

I shut it off. 

No. 

He wouldn't put me into his essay. 

Especially not to drag me about feeling family first. 

He isn't that type of person. 

Wasn't. 

I tossed his phone onto the floor, not watching where it went.

I didn't know how to react at this point. I was tempted to pick it up and finish listening, but I wasn't quite sure how good an idea it would be after the incident at the cafe.

It was hard to keep myself from continuing to read the note as well. I didn't really want to be worked up today and I was already having conflicting feelings about the fact that I'd just kissed Castiel. That was enough for one day.

Figuring it was a bad enough day, I walked back out into the kitchen, and this time Charlie had a blindfold on. Claire was putting a spoonful of what looked like some kind of fish into her mouth, giggling madly.

"Ew, Claire, what the fuck is that!!?" she shouted, practically gagging even after the spoon was out of her mouth.

"Pickled herring," she cackled, snorting even. "Hey, Dean," she smiled when she saw me. "You came in and left kinda short, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's-" I stopped short. These were the only two people I was completely comfortable spilling my heart out to. Should I really lie to them? My mouth closed and Charlie pulled off her blindfold to look at me.

"What's up?" she said, her bright green eyes practically piercing through me. It's the reason I could never lie to Charlie.

"Uh... I-"

Claire got up and said "Take a seat," then turned to shuffle through my cabinets, finally pulling out packets of instant apple cider.

"What is with you and apple cider?" I shook my head while I pulled my chair out and plopped into it.

"Tis the season, I guess," she shrugged and started to boil water and fill three mugs with the powder.

"It smells dank in here," Charlie wrinkled her nose and started closing all the jars and tins that littered the table. "Uck," she shuddered when closing one that held a yellow substance.

"Dank?"

"Gross," she and Claire answered in unison. "That's the short definition, at least."

I didn't respond but waited for both of them to sit back down while the kettle boiled on the stove top.

"So what's up?" my young blonde haired friend asked.

"Honestly? I don't even know," I rubbed a hand over my face. "I go through Sam's school stuff a lot because it just reminds me of him, and today I found a note I think he was gonna give me for my birthday a while back but never did. It was saying that he and Bobby were saving up to publish one of my books, but Sam used the money for drugs," I looked up at Claire, who had since then looked at her hands. "I was at a little cafe when that happened, and I'd run in to Cas beforehand. He saw that I was having a rough time and he got me out."

"Did you guys talk? About... you know?" Charlie asked.

"Uh," I scratched the back of my head. "Yeah, we did. And-"

The kettle started screeching and Claire groaned, standing to turn off the flame and finish our drinks.

"And?" she urged me to continue.

"And... I kissed him," I admitted. 

They gasped and I couldn't tell which, but one of them squealed. She put our mugs down in front of us. "Then what!?"

"Then..." they were hanging on to my every word and I almost felt bad that the ending was so anti-climatic. "I left."

"What?"

"That's all?"

"Dean, what the fuck?"

"What did you want? That's all that happened, and now I'm here," I shrugged. 

"Dean, as someone who literally saw Castiel straddling you, I think you should be together," Charlie stood up and Claire stifled a giggle. 

"Charlie, you already know what happened that night, it doesn't exactly count," I argued. 

"Okay, well either way, you two need to talk about what happened," Claire spoke up. "From my experience, or lack of, I know that you should always talk through your problems. It seems easier to act like nothing happened, but honestly it'll come around to hurt you."

I scoffed and crossed my arms. "We did talk about that. That's why I kissed him."

"Okay, barely," she rolled her eyes. "You should call him and go out."

"Yeah, because going out went so very well before," I laughed. "And I just saw him like twenty minutes ago, it would be weird for me to call right away. I'd seem needy."

Charlie sighed loudly, "That's stupid. Is that what boys think?"

"Shut up, you're gay," Claire hit her in the arm. 

"Apparently Dean is, too!"

"I'm not gay!" I corrected. 

"Oh yeah, what are you?"

"I don't really like to identify as anything," I shrugged. "I'll like who I like. But what I don't like are labels."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright. Either way, you should still call him." I started to repeat what I'd already said but she stopped me. "If you don't want to right now, then text him and ask if he wants to meet up later or something."

I could do that. It might be nice to actually go out with Cas and just talk about everything. I wouldn't even care if we didn't talk about relevant things. I just wanted to talk. I acted like I was still deciding for a minute so I didn't seem too eager, but then I sighed. 

"Alright, fine, I guess I can do that," I finally conceded. 

They gasped loudly and Claire squealed. "Oh my god, we need to make sure you look good!"

"Woah, no, honestly I'm just gonna wear this," I gestured down to my flannel and jeans. "Besides, I haven't even asked, so we don't even know if he'll want to g-"

"OH MY GOD!" Claire shouted in the middle of my sentence. "I just had the most amazing idea ever!" Her new companion turned and looked at her expectantly. "What if... they go ice skating!?"

"Oh my GOD!" Charlie gasped. "That would be so cute, you guys are going ice skating."

"They're such boyfriends, oh my god," she whispered. 

"No, ice skating is too much like a date," I shook my head. "It's supposed to be casual! Plus, I'm not sure how comfortable I am on ice right now..."

"Aw," Claire pouted and patted my shoulder. "Well get comfortable, Dean."

"Oh! Oh! What if Dean gets scared so he like holds on to Cas??"

"That would be so cute oh my god!"

"Excuse me!" I stood from the table. "What the hell! Are you guys really discussing my dating life with someone before it even exists?"

"Yes!" they both shouted at me. Then they turned back to each other and started talking in hushed tones. I rolled my eyes and stood up, thinking about how I would phrase it and whether I should text or call him. Honestly, the idea of ice skating did seem like a cute "date" to me, too and I almost wanted to ask if he wanted to go, just so it wasn't as formal as dinner or something like that. I ran a hand through my hair.

I should really get it cut. 

I pull my phone from where it landed on my bed when I threw the books and saw that I already had a missed call from Castiel. I panicked briefly. 

Why did he call me? Is he okay? Did he get hurt?

I immediately called him back, not even considering the fact that I would be completely flustered when he picked up. And I was very flustered.

"Dean?" he finally picked up, sounding worried. 

"H- Uh, a-are you... okay?" I stuttered my words and didn't sound concerned so much as concerning. 

"What? Yes, I'm fine," he assured. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I... why- uh why did you call me?"

"Oh, I wanted to talk."

"Uhm... about what?" I silently cursed myself. It was obvious what he wanted to talk about. 

"What happened in the car. And at the cafe," he answered softly. 

"Oh... well, uh, I was actually going to call you anyways and ask if you wanted to go out tonight."

"Wait, what?"

"No! I mean like, go out to talk about what happened. But not like... I mean if you wanted to just do something super casual? Just so we can talk," I hit my head with the palm of my hand. What the hell is wrong with me!?

"Oh! Uh, yeah sure," he answered. "I work until three, but I'm free afterwards."

"Uh... well Claire-" I paused. If I told him what she and Charlie had discussed he'll know I was talking about it. How do people do this smoothly?

"Who's Claire?"

"Just this... girl I know," I sighed. "Uh, do you want to go ice skating? Just because I don't know, it might be fun?" Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Fucking stupid. 

"Oh, yeah that could be fun!" he laughed. "Sure, but just so you know I have minimal to no coordination, so I will probably fall a lot."

"Don't worry, I'll be worse, my knees will be so bruised by the end of the night," I laughed then stopped short. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. "I mean-"

Cas was making a weird noise on the other end and I was almost worried before I realized he was laughing at me. "I know what you mean," he laughed. "I'll text you when I get off of work."

"Uh, okay, bye," I said quickly and hung up right away, then turned and buried my face in my pillow. What the fuck!?

Charlie and Claire burst in practically cackling and clutching at their stomachs. "'MY KNEES WILL BE SO BRUISED BY THE END OF THE NIGHT'!" my redheaded friend mocked. 

"I'm sure they will!"

"I hate you both so much," I shook my head. "I literally hate you so much."

They continued laughing, but started to turn and leave, Claire muttering something like "Such boyfriends" on the way out. 

"When you've pulled yourself together, come see us," she giggled.


	11. chapter 11

It turned out that the reason Claire and Charlie wanted me to come talk to them was to try and persuade me to tell them the details of my emotions towards Castiel. I shook my head and started to leave, but in the end they got me to talk about them. I explained how I wasn't sure what I was feeling, and despite what I figured their outcome would be, they ended up being more helpful than anything else. 

"Well even if you aren't really sure what it is that you're feeling are you positive that you're feeling something?" Charlie tilted her head to the side curiously. I stayed silent for a moment and nodded. "Honestly, I think that if you can tell you've got some feels stirring then that's all you really need to know to make the decision to pursue Cas. It doesn't mean that they're the feelings you think they are, but either way, it will be the best way to find out what they are and identify them."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "That's... actually really good advice, Charlie."

She looked offended and raised a hand to her chest. "Excuse you, Dean all my advice is good."

I had rolled my eyes and got up, then left for my room. 

And now here I was, sitting on my bed, waiting for Castiel to text me. 

It was almost 4:30, and he'd gotten out of work an hour and a half ago, and I was starting to get antsy. Did he still want to go? Was this his polite way of bailing on me? I was just about to get up and complain to Charlie and Claire about it when my phone buzzed beside me. 

He was calling. 

Not texting- calling. 

I waited a minute before answering with a gruff, "Hello?"

"Hi, Dean?" his voice was always so gentle. I can't remember a single time that he'd raised it at me, although I'm sure you're not allowed to yell at your patients. 

Disdain swirled in my stomach thinking of him treating me as his patient, but I quickly shook it off. 

"Are you out of work?" I asked after breaking out of my irritation. 

"Uh, yeah, and if you want I can pick you up, because I know you left your car at the cafe," he said, then there was a soft bumping noise and a muffled shout. "Hey, sorry, I dropped my phone."

I couldn't help the smile reaching my mouth because of what a clumsy dork he is. I nodded, "Yeah, you can pick me up whenever," I told him. 

"Oh, uh, well I'm actually close to the bunker if you're ready like... now."

I hummed for a moment, "Yeah, that's fine I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay. See you then," he said and hung up. I checked how much batter my phone had- 89%- and stuffed it in my back pocket before slipping into my boots. 

I walked into the kitchen, prepared for a bombardment of questions before I left, but neither of them were there. "Guys? I'm heading out!" I shouted. 

No one responded, so I scribbled a note onto the fridge with a nearby sharpie. I didn't really care that it was permanently ingrained on it, only realizing after that I hadn't actually used a dry erase marker. I shrugged on my jacket and practically hopped outside, content with the chilly wind cutting at my cheeks. I immediately saw Cas's car and walked to it carefully, worried there might be black ice. 

I rushed into the passenger's seat and was greeted with warmth blasting from the vents. "Hello," he said, sounding chipper as always. I turned to look at him and saw his face turned slightly to the side. He wasn't making eye contact with me. 

"What's up?" I asked warily. 

"What? Nothing, are you ready?" he continued to look straight ahead. Cas wasn't one for not maintaining eye contact so I didn't hesitate before holding his chin and turning his face towards me. His left cheekbone was swollen and his eye was completely bruised. He had what looked like claw marks on the bottom part of his jaw going down to his neck. "Surprise," he chuckled. 

"Cas, what the hell?" I exclaimed, letting go of his face. "What happened?"

"Nothing, really," he shook his head. "I can't tell you details, but a patient at work got out of hand. I'm fine, seriously," he shrugged and smiled, but he looked really pitiful. 

"Did she get punished at all? Are you okay?" I rushed to have him fill me in completely. 

"Yes, she's in solitary, and it's not really her fault. I'm fine, I promise," he assured me again. "Are you ready?"

"No, I- I feel like we should get some ice on that, Cas," I shook my head. "Honestly those scratches don't look very good."

"Dean, I had a medic at work check them, she said I'm going to be fine and gave me some pain medication," he told me, beginning to pull onto the road. "I barely even feel it." He looked over and scanned me. "Buckle up." I rolled my eyes but put my seatbelt on. 

I didn't really speak up except the occasional, "Turn right here," or "Holy shit did you see that owl?" I figured we could wait until we got to the ice skating rink to talk. 

"Is this outdoors?" he asked. I only nodded. "They have skate rental right?" I chuckled but nodded again. He smiled. "Okay."

Thankfully, the rink wasn't as crowded as I thought it would be. I'd expected the lot to be completely packed, but it was only about half way full, and I expected that some of the people there were getting their Christmas trees and not even skating. We got out and walked to the counter with almost no talking except for when Cas couldn't resist a pun by pointing to a series of icicles and saying, "Wow, those are cool." I hadn't really thought much of it, just nodding until I looked at him and saw the devilish smirk on his face. I'd rolled my eyes and kept walking. 

We listed off our sizes and Cas pushed my hand away from the teenage girl when I tried to pay her, throwing down a fifty to pay instead. A knowing smile made its way to her her lips even though she tried to hide it. When she handed us our skates, her lips were pressed together and she looked between us before giggling out a, "Have a fun time!"

The hardest part of skating, it turned out, was finding out how to lace up the boots. Cas had to end up helping me, almost unable to focus because he was laughing so hard. "I guess you could say you can KNOT lace up these skates," he said when he finished. I looked at him sideways, but couldn't help laughing. 

"I hate you," I shook my head, still laughing at him. We made our way to the rink where there was a small group of teenagers and a woman and man holding hands and trying to do spins, but laughing in their failed attempts. 

I felt compulsed to step away from the rink and make no attempt to skate, my body suddenly remembering the exact feel of the ice cracking beneath my feet. 

"Hey, are you okay?" Cas touched my shoulder. 

"What?" I asked, looking up at him. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine, just a little nervous about the ice."

"Oh, don't worry, they put a flat surface beneath the ice so that even if it melts, there's only a few inches of water. Nothing to worry about," he smiled reassuringly. 

"Why do you know that?" I muttered, wobbling past him, feeling a bit better about it. I slid my way onto the ice, almost falling right away. I grabbed the railing that went around the entire outside to keep my weight up and looked to see how Cas was doing. He skated backwards right in front of me, a secretive smirk on his bruised face. "You lied to me!"

He gasped, putting his hand up in front of his mouth. "Come on, I'll show you," he waved me over to where he stopped a few feet in front of me. His trench coat was wide open, showing his loose tie and shirt. I let myself slide forward as I pulled on the railing. He laughed, "Let go of that."

"I'm gonna fall!" I whined. 

"No, I won't let you fall," he was still laughing. I narrowed my eyes and he gasped. "I swear I won't!"

Warily, I let go of the railing, my legs still unsteady. "Okay, now slide forward, like if you had socks on a hardwood floor," he prompted. I furrowed my eyebrows, but did so. "Good, good!" He started moving backwards, still waving me to keep going and follow him. He glanced in back of him to make sure he wouldn't run into anyone but kept moving. "You're doing it!" 

"I guess you could say you're doing... Nice," he smiled cheekily. I looked up at him deadpan and it only made him laugh more. "Okay, Dean, I just want to tell you this so if you don't find out somewhere else and get upset okay?" I furrowed my eyebrows at him. "This- you being distracted by your movements while we talk- is a mechanism we use to get people to open up without thinking too hard. That's not what I'm doing with you, I promise, but just so you know-"

"It's okay, Cas, really, don't worry about it," I interrupted. 

"Alright," he nodded. "Well, let's talk then."

I had so many things that I wanted to say, but right now didn't feel like the time to say any of them. I didn't want to talk about how he and Jo had lied to me. I didn't want to be mad at him when I felt so comfortable around him right now. 

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Because I don't really want to talk about that." 

His features turned to understanding and he nodded. "Do you want to talk about what happened at the cafe to get you worked up?"

I bit my lip and started talking before I could really decide whether or not it was a topic I wanted to discuss. "Sam has all of these notes and essays that I like to read through. Just to remind me of him, you know? Well I was going through his notes and I found a birthday note that he was writing... to me. It said that he and our... Uncle Bobby were saving up to get one of the stories I wrote published, but Bobby died, so they stopped. Sam eventually used the money that had been saved up for drugs. I guess..." I slowed down. "I guess I just haven't really thought about how he died, even though I know it was because of an overdoes. I read through the autopsy, I know he overdosed on heroin. And I know that it was my fault he died."

"Dean, it wasn't-"

"Please, Cas, don't go all therapist on me, okay?" I shook my head, slipping slightly before regaining my balance. "I can't handle that right now."

"I'm not trying to be a therapist, okay? All I'm saying is that he should have been responsible and not started doing heroin," he told me softly. 

"He's a college student," I laughed. "He's not supposed to be responsible! That's supposed to be me, I should be the responsible one! I was looking after him, he was my responsibility. And even after he shot up the first time, I didn't make him go to rehab. I didn't make him quit. I figured he would be able to handle it, and I let him die."

"Dean, you couldn't help what he did. Even if you'd gotten him sober, hard drugs like that make you unable to control yourself. He would have done anything to get high again, okay? Anything at all to shoot up," he shook his head. "There was honestly nothing you could have done," he added softly. 

I looked down. "It's hard to accept that."

Then I saw the fabric attached to his coat to tie it dragging on the ice, about to be right behind his skate. I gasped, "Cas, sto-" I was too late because his blade got caught and he already started to stumble back. I grabbed onto the railing, but it didn't matter because as he was falling back, he reached out and pulled my arm to try and regain balance, so me falling onto him was inevitable. 

It wasn't like in the movies, where whoever landed on top was perfectly aligned with whoever fell. Oh no, we landed in a mess of limbs and I hit my head on the ice right next to Cas's head. 

"Fuck," he said, defeated. 

Against what I'd thought would happen, the group of teenagers ran over to help us up while the older couple tried not to laugh. 

"Hey, man, are you okay?" the boy who helped me up looked oddly familiar and I heard an even more familiar voice shouting as a girl pushed through the crowd of teens. 

"What the hell!?" Charlie practically screeched. "Why didn't you guys kiss?"

My mouth fell open. "Were you spying on us!?" 

Next to me, Claire was the one who'd helped Cas up. "We knew you guys would fuck something up so we had to be here to make sure you didn't kill yourselves!" She made him turn his head so she could check for blood and bumps. 

"Yeah, and it's a good thing we did, too! Who would have driven home if we weren't here?" Charlie crossed her arms. "You guys had the perfect opportunity to kiss and you completely ruined it! Dammit!" 

I rolled my eyes and looked around at the young people surrounding us, almost surprised at their amount of care for two guys who fell over. I turned back to look at Cas, who was looking at the divet my blade put in the ice. I put a hand on his shoulder and he turned to look up at me. 

"I guess you could say," he began.

"Don't."

"We had an incident," he smiled incredibly cutely and gave his shoulder a tiny shove before letting go. 

"I hate you."

We walked into the coffee shop that was right next door to the ice rink, Charlie and Claire following closely behind us. Cas touched my forehead, where I'm guessing there was a cut. 

"You're bleeding," he said softly. 

"I guess we'll match now," I chuckled, looking over to examine the cuts and bruises littering his face. His cheekbone had changed from red and swollen to a dark blue-purple color. 

When we got inside, we both ordered hot chocolate, then explained what had happened to the barista. She was extremely sympathetic as she gestured us behind the counter. "Oh, no, don't worry, this kind of stuff happens all the time! Come on back into the staff bathroom we have a first aid kit!"

We followed her to the bathroom, where she put out the kit on the sink and showed us where to put it before we left. Cas pushed me down to sit on the toilet and grabbed an alcohol wipe, kneeling in front of me to clean my cut. 

"Talk about bruised knees," I chuckled. He smirked at me. 

"Yeah, I guess you could say we really wiped out," he giggled, apologizing when I complained that the alcohol burned. After he put some anti-bacterial cream on it with some gauze, he stood up straight, saying that he didn't get cut at all. Either way, I took an instant ice pack from the kit and pressed it to the back of his head where he fell. His hand covered mine to hold it in place while I slid mine out. I put the kit away and followed him back to the seats in the cafe. The barista- Amanda, according to her name tag- gave us our drinks right away. 

I immediately identified where Charlie and Claire were seated and sat us on the opposite end of the restaurant. 

"Sorry about them," I said quietly. 

He shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. "Really, don't be," he assured, putting the ice pack onto the table between us so he could sip his drink. "Although you never really explained who Claire was."

"Oh! Well, if you hadn't guessed she's that blonde girl. She saved me, like, last week," I chuckled at how strange it sounded that I'd only known Claire for a week when it felt like she'd been the little sister I'd never had for such a long time. I got into details about what had happened and the ice cracking. 

Cas's jaw dropped. "Oh my god, Dean, ,why didn't you tell me that!? And why would you want to go ice skating after that?"

I shrugged, "We weren't really on the best of terms when it happened! It was actually the day that... I found out."

He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and released it when he looked up to meet my eyes. "I think we should talk about that. Not only... that but the night before, too. And I promise I won't get mad if you won't. Deal?"

I nodded. "Deal. You go first. Explain yourself," I joked. 

He took a deep breath. "Okay, I guess I'll start with Jo. It was only a few days after Sam's body was identified that she called me, saying you hadn't eaten and all you'd do is sleep. They sounded like surefire symptoms of depression and she asked if, since we knew each other, I would be able to help. But she knew you would never consent to seeing a therapist, especially so soon after. It seemed like the perfect idea that I come and stay with you as a friend and a funeral coordinator- I worked in funeral coordinating in college. So I stayed with you guys, genuinely caring for you. For all of you." He paused and put his hand over mine on the table. From where my chin rested in my other hand I looked up to meet his eyes. You could literally hear Charlie's gasp from across the room. "And I need you to know that I didn't want to continue lying to you about what I did or who I was. Before that night, I'd already been talking to Jo about coming clean because I started to have feelings for you." I shifted our hands so our fingers were twined. He squeezed before continuing. "So when you suggested drinking for a 'guy's night' I didn't think much of it. I figured that since we were already talking about telling you who I was, it didn't matter if we just acted as friends and had a few drinks together. I didn't even think about the fact that you weren't dealing with Sam. You never talked about it, which should have been a red light for me, but I guess I was just too distracted by you to remember all my training. So it wasn't until after you brought out whiskey that I realized we shouldn't be drinking." He shifted in his seat and almost blushed. "But I am... very lightweight and don't handle alcohol very well, so after a few gulps of it I was out of my wits. I'm also a hungry drunk if you didn't guess."

"You're a hungry sober, Cas," I chuckled. 

He smiled but continued. "So then I kissed you and honestly I didn't really expect you to respond. But you did and eventually I tried to stop you- not very hard- because I knew what might have been happening. When I woke up the next morning I knew I'd fucked up. Big time. And I'm so sorry that I was so stupid and then I got all offended." He shook his head. "Everything you were doing were textbook symptoms of depression, so I should have known that you'd look to anything as distraction from your emotions. Or lack thereof," he specified. "So... I'm sorry, but... I'm also not sorry because I don't really know how else I would have told you that I had feelings for you."

I thought about what he said silently so I could process. I wasn't mad at him, definitely not. But I couldn't place the warm tingly sensation in my chest. 

It would take serious suggesting to get this person to even recognize the honeymoon stage at all.

My stomach was in a knot and I didn't even want to drink my hot chocolate for fear of getting sick.

If anything they would probably think of it as an illness and want it to end as soon as possible. 

I cleared my throat and looked up at Cas, who was watching me. 

"Your turn," he smiled warmly. 

I blew out a breath and felt a strand of hair fall in front of my face. I pushed it back with the hand that wasn't holding Cas's and he blinked a few times after, narrowing his eyes a little.

"What's wrong?" I asked. 

"Nothing," he shook his head. "That was just really attractive."

I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn't talk around the smile that made its way to my lips. "Oh."

"Anyways," he rolled his eyes. "Your turn?"

"Right! Well... honestly you're right. I was using you as a distraction that night. But I don't exactly think I'm depressed. Although you're the doctor, so-"

"Oh, I'm not a doctor. Not yet," he interrupted. "Wait, sorry!"

"No it's okay," I chuckled. "But that night really I was already distracted, and you instigated it, so since I was kind of tipsy I guess I really didn't think about how guilty I would feel after that. But the morning after I felt so bad Cas, you don't understand. That's why I went to the park where I fell in the water. I was so upset about what I did to you that I went to the pond to think about it. I didn't wear a jacket so that would have been punishment enough, but then I fell in and met Claire and we talked about it and she told me to tell you everything. How I felt, all of it. And now here I am, doing just that. Cas, honestly I don't know exactly what it is that I feel for you, but I definitely feel something and honestly that's all that matters to me." 

I looked up to his eyes and found him biting the inside of his cheek. 

"What's up?" I asked. 

He looked back at me. "We should go out go out," he said. I raised an eyebrow. "Like on a date."

"Oh," I wiggled my eyebrows. "I think we should, too."

"Let's go out to dinner. Tomorrow, though, because I think I'm gonna be sick," he said, putting the ice pack back on his head. 

"We should get you home," I sighed, starting to stand and pulling him up with the hand that was holding his. He groaned upon standing. "If this doesn't go away you should see a doctor. You might have a concussion."

He shook his head, "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Okay..." I trailed off and looked to Charlie, nodding my head towards the door. We met them right outside the shop and I said, "First of all, I'll deal with you two later. Second of all, you're following me to Cas's house so you can give me a ride home. Got it?"

They both nodded as though they were children caught stealing candy. We walked back to the cars and I got in the driver's seat when we approached Cas's car, although he whined. "I want to drive."

"You might have a concussion, sit down," I ordered. He did so as I began pulling out of the parking lot and asked for his address. I knew around where it was, but I figured that when we got close he could just direct me. I turned on the CD he had in. Classical music played. I nodded my head. "I can dig some Tchaikovsky," I grinned. He rolled his eyes. 

"This is Bach, you uncultured swine," he laughed. 

Just like I thought, when we were in the general area of this house- or apartment- he gave me the "turn left here" or "SHARP RIGHT" directions. I pulled into the parking lot he pointed my to and offered to walk him to his apartment. 

"Wow, Dean, you're such a gentleman," he said sarcastically. "I think I'm gonna pass out," he said quieter. "Maybe since you're suck a knock out, you should walk me up."

I nodded. "I think you're right," I laughed and walked around to open his door for him. He was stumbling and I offered to give him a piggie-back ride. He said yes, so he jumped onto my back and handed me his keys to get in. The manager waved warily at the front desk and I wondered in the back of my mind what kind of building has a manager in the front. "Hey, he hit his head pretty hard today, would you mind checking on him at some point during the night?" I asked him. He nodded eagerly. 

"Of course! What room number is he in?" he asked. 

I checked his keys, "34." The man nodded and I thanked him politely. When we got to his flat I maneuvered my way around until I found his bedroom and dropped him on it. He continued sitting on the edge when I turned around. 

"Wow, Dean, it's a real put down that you're not staying with me," he smiled devilishly. I rolled my eyes and started to walk away. "Woah, wha-? You're not even gonna kiss me goodbye?" I turned the light on. 

"I was just turning the light on," I explained, grinning. 

"Oh. I guess it must be a real turn off for me to be so eager, huh?" he laughed, eyes glistening with mischief at the pun. 

"Not quite," I admitted, approaching him. 

"Good," he smiled, reaching up to grab the collar of my jacket and pull me down to meet his mouth. I kissed him back, glad he ended up wanting one at the end of the night because honestly, I'd never felt the fluttering in my stomach or my heart beating faster like I did when I kissed Cas. 

I moved to hold his face in my hands, but just held the right side of his face and the left of his neck so I didn't hurt his bruises. His hands moved down the opening of my coat and he tugged, sending me forward on top of him. 

I pulled away briefly and laughed, catching myself quickly on my hands. I gave him one last kiss, shaking my head when he moved to deepen it. 

"You need rest," I told him, my voice sounding more gruff than I'd intended. 

"Fine," he said in a deep voice, mocking me. I stood back up straight and he stood in front of me, taking off his coat and tie and throwing them on the floor. He looked me up and down and pressed his lips to mine again. This time he pulled away first and waved me out. "Goodnight, Dean."

"Night, Cas," I laughed, smiling my whole way out.


	12. chapter 12

When I got back to Claire's car, I motioned for Charlie to sit in the back seat, and climbed into shotgun. She started driving in reverse to go home, but I stopped her. 

"No, we're gonna have a little talk first," I put my hand over the shift and she swallowed, but returned it to park.

"Dean, actually I think we should-"

"No." I interrupted Charlie and put my finger up. "Were you guys gone before I left because you went to beat Cas and I here?" Claire shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. "And did you or did you not yell at us for not kissing when we fell on the ice!?"

"Dean, come on, you would've done the same if it was just me and some random girl," she shook her head and her red hair whipped her face. "We just wanted to make sure nothing bad happened!"

I shook my head. "That's not the point! Castiel and I don't need chaperones!"

Claire laughed. "Judging what happened tonight, I'd say you guys definitely need chaperones. You guys really could have been hurt."

"We can handle ourselves, guys," I sighed. I wasn't actually mad at them, I just wish they wouldn't be so incredibly nosey. 

"We're sorry," she added. "We didn't mean to upset you." Claire reached over to put her hand on mine and squeeze. 

"By the way, who was that guy that helped me up? Was that Nathan?" I asked, now the nosey one. She blushed. 

"Yeah..."

"What? Claire!" I exclaimed. "I think I need to go have a chat with this kid." I cracked my knuckles and motioned for her to drive. She rolled her eyes and started driving home. 

"So you guys have a dinner date for tomorrow?" a certain redhead's voice popped up from the back seat. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know, Charlie," I said. "We didn't really discuss it, seeing as Cas got a concussion! I don't know if we're even gonna go out anymore. Maybe I'll just get takeout and we can watch a movie or something instead," I shrugged. 

They both gasped but Charlie responded, "Some Netflix and chill then, huh? I can dig it."

"What? Charlie, shut up!"

Claire giggled next to me, then took an incredibly sharp right turn, screeching the whole time. "Woah, sorry guys, almost missed that turn."

I glared at her. "Do you even have your licence?"

She scoffed, turning to face me. "Of course I have my licence!"

"She does, I saw it," Charlie seconded. "She's just a really terrible driver."

"Charlie!"

"What? You are," she shrugged. 

When we got home, I decided to head straight to my room and call Cas, just to make sure he was okay. His phone rang for a solid thirty seconds, and I almost thought that it was going to go to voicemail until he answered at the last second. 

"Hello?" he answered groggily. 

"Oh no, Cas, did I wake you up?" I panicked. 

"Yeah but it's probably a good thing," he sighed, coughing. "Well that's interesting."

"What happened? Why is it a good thing?" I rushed my words, almost stumbling over them. 

"I... well it was just really hard to wake up when you called, but I'm fine, really," he coughed again. "I'm also coughing up blood, so that might be a problem."

"Oh my god, Cas, what!? I'm coming to get you and we're going to the hospital!" I basically commanded. I was already rushing through the kitchen to find Claire's keys. 

"No, Dean, stop! I'll be fine, I swear, don't worry about me," he assured. 

"I'm getting you right now stop fighting. And you're staying on the phone with me the whole time," I told him, running to Charlie's room where she and Claire were watching a movie on her bed. "I need your keys, Cas is hurt." Her eyes widened but she pointed to her coat, hung over the sofa in her room. I grabbed them from the pocket. 

"I'm coming," Charlie stood up. 

"No, Charlie, it's okay, I'll keep you updated," I promised, then basically sprinted out the door to her yellow bug. The sun had already set, but it wasn't too hard to locate a bright yellow car parked right below a street light. 

"Dean, are you still there?" he asked. 

"Yeah, Cas, I'm here," I put the phone on speaker and placed it on the dashboard so I could drive. 

"Alright," he sighed. "I guess I should get dressed."

I cleared my throat. "That would probably be a good idea."

"Okay," he said, sounding muffled. Then there was a soft bang.

"Cas? Castiel are you okay?" I practically shouted, stepping harder on the gas. 

There was silence before I heard a, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I stumbled, I got kinda dizzy. I'm just gonna wait til you get here to change."

I swallowed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, your bruised knees theory is just being proved more and more tonight," he said, groaning while I'm guessing he stood up. 

"Okay, well, stay sitting until I get there, okay?" I asked. 

"Dean, I'm tiiiiiired," he whined. 

"No, you're not going to sleep," I shook my head, turning left through the red light. There was no one around. 

"But I'm really tired."

"Cas, you can go to sleep when we get to the doctor's office, okay?"

"We're going to the doctor?" he mumbled. 

I ran a red light and sighed. "Yes, we're going to the doctor. I'm almost to your street okay? Just hang in there."

"Hangin'," he assured. "Do I have to buzz you in when you get here?"

"No, I'll just get the manager's attention," I said. "Just stay in bed."

He was quiet for the next few minutes, with the occasional "Yes, I'm fine" when I asked. Finally I pulled up to his building and rushed to the door, knocking rapidly. 

The manager turned his head, looking terrified until he recognized me. Then he ran over to open the door, "Everything alright, sir?"

I shook my head, "That guy I was carrying in here before has a concussion and it might be worse than I had thought."

He nodded and followed me up the steps. "Do I need to call an ambulance?"

"No, I can drive him, there's a hospital a few blocks over," I assured. When we got to room 34, I tried the knob and found it locked. "Cas?"

I got a tired, "What?" on the other end of the phone but the manager was already opening the door. Master key, I totally forgot. He stayed outside while I ran into Cas's bedroom to see him sitting on the bed, wearing only mesh workout shorts. His phone was sitting on speaker on his bare chest and he made a peace sign when he saw me. "Whaddup home skillet?" he asked. 

"Dude," I breathed, rushing to look through his dresser and find a shirt for him. I grabbed the first tshirt I could find, and helped him into it, realizing after that it said Hold Me, I'm a Fermata 

I rolled my eyes and commented on it but he only said, "I am the pun master."

"Yes, you are," I agreed and helped him up. "Do you want me to carry you again?" He nodded and stretched out his arms. "Okay, get on my back." I turned around and felt his arms around my neck soon after. I put mine under his knees and started to walk out, seeing the manager of the building still waiting outside. 

"Is he okay?" he asked, looking at Cas worriedly. 

"I could kill you right now," he said softly, tightening his hold on my neck to prove his point. "I won't. But I could."

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll be okay, we just need to get him to a doctor," I nodded. I started to go down the steps, but he touched my shoulder and pointed me in the direction of the elevator. "What the hell? I didn't have to carry you up the steps before?"

"That would make you my neckst victim," he laughed at his own joke, about thirty seconds too late to make the pun. 

Once we got downstairs, I walked as quickly as I could without either running or dropping him and helped him into the passenger's seat. It wasn't until I got in on my own side that he spoke up, "Hey, Dean?" I nodded, already driving to the ER a mere four blocks from his house. "Earlier I made a negatives and positives list of dating you. I only found one concussion."

"I hate you," I laughed. 

"You love me," he turned to look out his window. He didn't stay quiet for long, because soon after I pulled into the round parking lot right up front of the entrance, not really caring whether or not I got Claire's car towed. 

I stuffed my phone in my back pocket and ran over to help Castiel out of his side. He leaned most of his weight on me while we walked in, but still remained mostly upright while we approached the front desk.

"Hi, how may I help you?" the woman at the front asked. Her name tag read Tessa. I motioned for Cas to go sit and he stumbled over to a chair.

"Uh, my friend hit his head really hard about an hour ago and I think he has a concussion," I informed her, and her eyebrows furrowed looking closer at him. 

"It looks like a rabid dog might have attacked him, as well," she said quietly. As she handed me a form to fill out she added,"He might need stitches on those. Have a seat, a doctor should be out to see you in just a few moments." I started to turn around and she called, "OH, wait, I have an ice pack." She popped an instant one and handed it to me.

Cas laid out over three chairs, and his head was positioned in my lap, the ice pack resting between the back of his head and my thigh. He reached up and poked my nose. 

"Boop."

I chuckled and stayed silent, shaking him a little whenever he would start to fall asleep. I tried to fill out most of the form myself, but I asked him random questions, like past surgeries and diseases. 

"Why did you call me your friend?" he asked, looking up at me curiously. 

"What?"

"Up there, when the lady asked what happened you called me your friend. Are we friends?" 

I furrowed my eyebrows, putting my hand down to play with his hair. "I... don't know. I guess it's just a habit," I shook my head. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"It's okay," he shrugged. "I always think couples should be friends anyways." I thought back to Sam's essay.

The form was finally filled out and I started to get up to hand it to Tessa, but a nurse came in, moving swiftly and gestured for us to follow him. He looked young and held his hand out for the forms we'd just filled out, moving to help Cas stand, taking him from my grip. 

I walked behind, feeling helpless as he sat in one of the hospital bed. I hadn't really taken much notice of it before, but I'd always noticed the distinct smell that hospitals had, and this room must have just recently been sanitized because the smell of Lysol and bleach was incredibly overwhelming from the moment I walked out. 

"Alright... Castiel?" he asked, moving the bed so Cas was sitting up. "Can you tell me what happened?" He was still looking through the papers. 

He opened his mouth to answer, but looked to me pitifully when nothing happened. 

"Uh, he was ice skating, and he fell backwards and hit his head on the ice," I explained vaguely. 

"Okay... and the side of your face?" he kept looking at Cas, not even making eye contact with me when I answered the questions. 

"He works as a therapist and a patient got out of hand," I told him what I knew of that. 

"Okay, well I'm going to take a blood sample and get fluid for an IV," he nodded. He then turned around to reach into the cabinet behind him and brought out a hospital gown. "Put this on. Dr. Young will be in soon." On his way out, the nurse pulled the divider to give us some privacy.

Carefully, after some convincing, I helped Cas out of his shirt and placed the gown over him, then let him take his shorts off underneath. 

"Ever the honorable man, Dean," he rolled his eyes. I chuckled, but then he took a shaky breath.

"What?"

"I don't like needles," he whispered. I smiled and put my hand over his. 

"You can squeeze my hand as tight as you need when he puts it i-" I stopped short, knowing how it would sound. "When he takes blood."

He didn't seem to notice the innuendo, just sort of nodding. "This isn't usually how my experience at hospitals go," he commented. "I usually wait longer."

"They must not be busy tonight," I answered. "Plus it is an emergency room." He shrugged and we waited calmly for the nurse to come back, and he did quickly. 

"Alright," he sighed, sliding into the stool and putting his tray of things on the counter to the left. "What I'm gonna do..." he explained while he took the needle out of its packet. "Is have you say your alphabet," he nodded at Cas. "It'll distract you." He nodded alright.

Cas turned to me and said, "See I told you that was a thing."

I chuckled but nodded for him to start saying his ABCs. He kept squeezing my hand, squinting so he didn't have to look as the doctor put the needle in right below his elbow. Cas started to tense. 

"Don't flex, your arm will bruise," he said, pulling the base of the needle to fill it with blood as gradually as he could before taking it out. "There. All done."

He put the IV in fairly quickly after, along with heart monitors and as he turned to walk out, he looked back and winked at Cas. Both our mouths fell open, but Castiel was smiling, whereas I was just purely surprised. 

"How unprofessional!" I said at the same time he said, "That was so cute!"

I turned to face him, my jaw still practically on the floor. "What!?"

"He was cute, admit it!"

"You know what, shh, you're concussed, just take a nap," I said, putting my hand over his face. 

"Dean Winchester," he gasped. I pulled my hand away to glare at him. "Are you jealous?" 

"Are you kidding me? No, of course I'm not jealous. I just respect professionalism. And that was by no means, professional," I shook my head. 

"You do realize that the only reason you and I are... whatever we are is because I was unprofessional?" he smirked. 

"I know," I pouted. "But you already were bad at your job. That means he doesn't have to be."

"Shut up," he laughed. "Don't worry, I won't submit to his cute ways."

The doctor knocked on our door, but didn't wait before storming in. She was a very bold presence, I could tell the moment she stepped into the room. 

"Hello, Mr. Novak," she nodded at Cas. "I see you got yourself into a bit of a situation!"

She proceeded to inspect the wounds on his face and check his head for bruising. She talked him through exactly what happened, and I zoned out until she started looking closer at the cuts on his neck. 

"Well, this may be why you were coughing up blood," she admitted. "These cuts are quite deep, the woman who scratched you must have really had some long nails. You're going to need stitches only on two of them, I think, and I'll just put some anti-bacterial onto the others. As for the concussion, I'm going to say a CT scan is not necessary, however if symptoms don't get better within the next week, we'll make a follow up appointment and get you scanned, alright? You'll need plenty of rest, drink lots of water... the whole deal. Will you be with him for the next few days?" the doctor addressed me. 

"Oh, uh. Yes, I can be," I shrugged. 

"Alright, well keep a close eye on him. I'll fax a release to your work for the next week, alright? I'm also going to give you a small dose of morphine so you won't be in too much pain when we stitch you up," she nodded to him. "I'll send a few nurses in to move you so we can get you stitched up, alright?" 

"Okay," he said softly. 

"As for this, you will not be able to come to the operating room for the stitches," she told me. I nodded. On the outside I tried to remain calm while she walked out, but inside I was having a massive panic attack. I didn't want to leave Cas alone for this! 

"Dean, why didn't you say something!?" he whisper shouted at me once she was gone. 

"What? What would you have wanted me to say? It's a hospital, they won't let me back!" I insisted. "I'm sorry."

He groaned and put his IV free hand to his forehead. "I hate needles and someone is going to be sticking one in my face. Repeatedly!" 

"I'm sorry, Cas," I frowned. "Just think of your face as fabric."

"You mean fabric. Fab as in fabulous?!" he winked.

"Even at a time like this, you still won't miss an opportunity to make a pun?"

"Puns just come out of me, I can't time them."

We waited silently for the nurses to wheel him out and I kissed the top of his head before he left, earning a confused eyebrow furrowing from our first nurse. I felt a smug smile reach my face. 

Right after he left I began pacing, then checked my phone to call Charlie. I had 7 missed calls from her and Claire. I sighed and called back. 

"Dean?!"

"Hey, Charlie," I said quietly, not wanting to disturb other patients. 

"What's going on!?" she growled. "Why were you ignoring our calls?"

"I wasn't! I'm in a hospital, it's not like I can talk the whole time," I responded. "And they just took him to get stitches for the cuts on his face."

"What? Why aren't you with him?"

"They wouldn't let me go," I explained. "I wanted to, though."

The clock ticked by thirty minutes later and I was still on the phone with Charlie, but Claire had joined the conversation now. 

"What's taking so long? Shouldn't it be like a five minute procedure?" I complained, my feet up on the chair next to the one I was sitting in. 

"Who knows?" Claire asked. 

Charlie added, "I'm sure everything is fine and he'll be back soon. Maybe he's making them laugh. He's stupidly funny without morphine, I'm sure it's worse with it."

I sighed. "I guess so."

As if by magic, I heard the rolling of his hospital bed back to the room. "Gotta go, he's back."

I hung up before hearing a response, seeing the familiar flirty nurse.

"What took so long?" I immediately asked. I looked to Cas's cuts, and the skin around them was red and puffy, some blood running down his neck. 

"He was allergic to the stitches," he explained. "We had to take them out and get him some Benedryl before restitching him." 

My eyes widened, "He was allergic to the stitches? Will he be okay!?"

He rolled his eyes. "He'll be fine."

Cas turned to look at me, his eyes glazed over. "Dean? Whatareyoudoinghere?" he slurred. 

I laughed, "We're gonna head home."

"You just need to check out, and give him Benedryl every four hours, okay?" he explained. I nodded and waited while he took out Cas's IV out. 

Thankfully, even though Cas was even worse to carry right now, the car wasn't towed when we got out. 

"Dean?" he asked. 

I looked over, closing the door on my side. "What's up, Cas?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"What?"

"Okay," he said and leaned forward, putting his mouth on mine. Only a moment later his lips went limp on mine. I opened my eyes and pulled away and he fell onto me, suddenly asleep. 

I smiled fondly and put his seatbelt on for him, then drove back to the bunker.


	13. chapter 13

I learned within about two hours that Cas was not joking in the slightest about being lightweight. Of course I get that morphine is different than alcohol, but he seemed plastered. He was stumbling around the bunker, falling asleep in random spots, and one time when he talked to Claire and Charlie he laughed so hard he threw up. 

"Cas, come here, we're gonna just watch The Hobbit and try to relax okay?" I asked, waving him over to where I was sitting on my bed. 

He looked up at me from where he was shuffling through a shelf of my things, a snow globe Sam had gotten me when we were kids in his hand. "Tolkien?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Yes, Tolkien wrote the Hobbit."

His whole face lit up and he waddled over, hopping into the bed on my right side. "Okay, Cas, here, lay down," I suggested, guiding him to lay his head on one of my pillows. 

"How can I even look at the movie from down here I wanna watch," he whined, pushing to sit up next to me. 

"Okay, okay," I sighed, pressing play on the remote and leaning back so my head rested on the wall behind the bed. 

"Did you know that JRR Tolkien created the whole world of Middle Earth on his own?" Cas informed me, putting his chin on my shoulder to look at me.

"Yes, I did know that."

"I guess you could say he's pretty Tolkeen," when I looked over to give him a look for making such a stupid pun, but he was wiggling his eyebrows and I couldn't help but laugh. 

"Yeah I guess so," I replied, putting a finger to my lips so he'd be quiet. 

We were barely ten minutes into the movie when he whispered, "Hey, Dean."

"Yeah, Cas?" I sighed, figuring I probably wouldn't be able to watch it. 

"Isn't it weird that there's Gandalf and he's like Jesus," I closed my eyes and shook my head. "But then, the dwarves are like his disciples."

"No, I don't really think that's related in any way," I said, searching his face. 

"True, I guess it wouldn't be since...since the characters are so gay," he shrugged, his eyelids starting to droop. 

"What? What characters are gay?" I asked, leaning forward to try and see the TV better. 

"Are you kidding? Keele and Peele, first of all," he tried to explain, starting to sway a bit. 

If he throws up in my bed I will kill him. 

"Aren't they, like, brothers?" I asked. 

"I mean... I don't think so. But also Thorin and Bilbo, obviously, Deeeeeean." He rolled his eyes and put his head on my shoulder. 

"Oh, yeah totally," I laughed, putting my arm around him and trying to soothe him so he would fall asleep. 

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"Are you still mad at me for lying about being a therapist?" he whispered groggily. 

I tightened my hold on him slightly and tilted his chin up so he would look at me. "No, Cas, I'm not. I promise." 

"Good," he nodded once and I think he aimed to kiss my mouth but he just sort of pressed his whole face against my chin. I patted his head, not quite sure how to respond to his messy affection. Before even thirty seconds had passed, he'd completely moved on from the subject to say, "Christmas is coming up, you know."

I turned to look at him, where he was clutching my arm and resting his head on my bicep. I caught a glimpse of the stitches quickly, glad that the swelling had gone down. "Yes, I know," I nodded. It was only within the second week of December, but I knew it would be here soon enough. 

"And your house isn't decorated at all," he observed softly. 

"I know," I replied. I'd never quite felt the "Christmas spirit", especially not this year. Sam was always the one to go buy a tree or force me to help him decorate the bunker. It just happened that he absorbed all the happiness around this time of the year; I used to be just as enthusiastic as he was about Christmas, but once dad and Bobby died, it was as if someone just shut off all of my capability to feel what's so great about Christmas. 

I think Sam tried to explain it to me once, and he was a sap, talking about how family really made the holidays worth while. I'd of course dismissed his explanation, but I definitely saw what he meant now. I hadn't really thought about Christmas this year because I knew it wouldn't happen that I'd start out a Grinch but eventually he would push me over to be Santa Claus. Now it was obvious that it would just cause more grief than anything, reminded me that I'd lost him.

"We should decorate it," he said matter of factly. 

"Oh, should we?" I sighed, shifting slightly away from him. 

"Dean," he whined, continuing to pull on my arm. "Come on, please? Christmas makes everyone feel better," he tried to persuade. 

"Not me, Cas, sorry," I shrugged and he groaned. 

"PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE?" 

"Cas, stop."

"Dean, come on it's the mooost wonderful ttiiiime of the yeear," he started to sing and swayed, pulling me side to side with him. "With the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you be of good cheeeeeeer-"

"Seriously, please stop," I pushed his hand off my shoulder gently. 

With a huff he did stop, but proceeded to pout with his arms crossed. Thankfully, I wasn't even close to budging on the subject so when he turned to look at me with wide, puppy eyes, I just looked back to the movie so long forgotten about. 

"Dean," he whispered.

"What?"

"Can we make cookies?" I furrowed my eyebrows and turned to look at him. 

"Uh... I guess so?" I answered, surprised he let up so quick, considering he was the most persistent person I knew. 

"Christmas cookies!?" his whole face brightened. 

"No, Cas!" I practically shouted. When he flinched away from me I knew I'd crossed the playful line he'd been on. I sighed and ran a hand over my face. 

"Sorry," he said quietly, then moved so he was laying down, pulling my comforter up to his chin. 

"Cas," I began. "Really, I-"

"Goodnight, Dean," he yawned, completely disregarding whatever I was going to say. 

***

The next morning Cas wasn't in my bed when I woke up. I reached over to cuddle against his back but found only emptiness. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and sat up, hearing faint laughter and classical music wafting from the kitchen. I stood on unsteady legs, my knees almost buckling when I put my weight on them. 

There was a familiar pressure on my chest and in my throat that I hadn't felt in a long time. It was that sensation that seemed to be a constant reminder that Sam wasn't here anymore. I wasn't quite sure why it was present, but I figured it had something to do with the obvious fact that Christmas was practically a week away. 

Never the less, I walked to the kitchen warily, seeing Cas and Charlie waltzing around the kitchen. Cas was humming and trying to lead her so she would stay on beat, saying the occasional, "One-two-three one-two-three."

Claire laughed at them from the table, taping their failure the whole time. 

Aside from the fact that Charlie was all over the place, making Castiel stumble and snort with laughter, he really seemed to know what he was doing. "No, no, Charlie," he shook his head, a smile making its way to his face. I leaned against the entrance to the kitchen, watching silently. "One. Two. Three. Side, step, back, side, step, back." She tried this, resulting in her stepping on his foot. "Dude!"

"Sorry, Cas!"

The music changed from the waltz that had been playing to something more sullen and dissonant. Charlie shook her head. "Not my type of song. Claire, why don't you put on a Christmas album?"

Cas took a step away. "Wait, no, maybe we shouldn-"

"No, go ahead," I finally spoke up from where I stood in the doorway. "You can play something Christmas-y. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure, Dean?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed. "If it'll be a trigger for y-"

"Don't talk about me like I'm a patient," I responded quietly. I looked up to meet his eyes. Both of the girls froze, observing.

"Dean, you know that's not what I'm doing," he said firmly. "I'm just trying to make sure you're okay."

"And I said I would be so let it go, okay?" I rolled my eyes and moved to go back to my room. 

Before I could close my door, I heard Charlie say something like, "Men, am I right?"

Right when I moved to actually close it, Castiel's hand grabbed it and stopped me. "Dean."

"Cas, please-"

He pushed it open gently and I stepped to the side, closing it after him. "Dean, if we're going to keep going with... whatever the hell we are, we need to talk, okay?"

I shook my head. "I don't think we do."

"Well, you're wrong, because whenever I say something that could remotely relate to your emotions you immediately think I'm acting like a therapist to you. That's what people in relationships do, okay?" he moved to sit on the bed, speaking with his hands. "They talk about their thoughts and feelings."

"I don't think they do."

"Dean, seriously?" he raised an eyebrow. "Stop."

"Stop what? Stop having feelings and not being comfortable talking about them? Isn't it like against your therapist training to make someone talk about something they don't want to?" I crossed my arms. 

"Yes it is. But that's irrelevant because I am not your therapist," he shrugged, remaining calm like he always did. 

"Cas, why are you doing this? What is the point in upsetting me and making me talk about shit I don't want to talk about?" I shook my head. 

"I'm not doing anything, Dean! You're being ridiculous! Whatever point you're trying to prove doesn't even make sense!" he raised his arms. "All I'm trying to do is understand why you're still not over the fact that Jo hired me. We've talked through it and established we were both at fault for something and now you're bringing it all up again. I can do that, too, Dean. I could get upset that you were using me for your own benefit, but I won't because I understand that what you did was a mistake, okay? I don't even care if you don't forgive me for it, I just want you to get that I regret it, and won't be treating you like a patient anymore."

Through his whole rant his voice didn't raise to a shout, didn't have any increase in volume whatsoever. He was completely calm and collected the whole time. 

"Why don't you have emotions, Cas?" I tilted my head to the side. 

"Oh my god," his head tipped back and he laughed humorlessly. Looking back at me with a smile he said, "You are turning attention on to me to distract yourself from what you're feeling."

I shook my head. "I'm not dealing with this right now. We will talk later when I actually want to talk," I practically commanded while I stormed out of the room. I heard his sigh as I left. 

Entering the kitchen, I saw that Claire was alone at the table and I gestured for her to follow me while I slipped into shoes and a jacket. We made our way to her car and I got into the driver's side. 

"Where are we going?" she asked, buckling up quickly, her phone in her hands. 

"First to your house and then to pick up my car," I answered, shifting it to pull out recklessly. 

"What!? No, we can just get your car, why do we have to go to my house?" she began to panic, putting her hand on my arm and looking at me with wide eyes. 

"Because you said earlier that you needed more clothes," I answered. 

"Oh. Uh... okay, I guess, but I'll go in alone-" she was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing. She ignored the call and looked back to me. "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem," I sighed. 

"What's going on with you and Castiel? What happened in the kitchen?" she prodded. She's almost nosier than Charlie. 

I turned to glance at her when I stopped at a red light. "Nothing. I don't want to celebrate Christmas, he does. End of story."

She raised an eyebrow and I looked back at the road, glistening with snow. "Really? Because it seemed the opposite when we were dancing in the kitchen."

"Claire, I don't have to talk to you about this, okay?" I sighed. "It's none of your business."

She scoffed and crossed her arms. "Don't be a dick, it's totally your business," she returned. "Why were you all butt hurt that he asked if you would be okay? You know he has, like, a genuine interest in your feelings, right?"

"Oh my fucking god, Claire, you sound just like him," I shook my head and accidentally put on the wrong turn signal, but still turned the right way. "Don't make me drop you off at the curb, alright? I brought you because I enjoy your company, not because I wanted to be grilled about Cas."

She huffed out a breath and I could almost feel her rolling her eyes. "You're just salty. You need a fuckin' drink."

"I don't need a drink, I need you to fuck off about my personal life!"

"Listen, Dean," she turned to face me and I remained still. "What I am trying to do is help you. Now you won't accept help from your boyfriend, and you won't listen to Charlie or me. Whether you believe it or not you need to get your emotions out. And I know you haven't done it in a while, but I think a good way to start would be for you to-"

"I'm not going to a therapist."

"For you to talk to Jo," she finished. "Maybe if you wouldn't inter-fucking-rupt me all the time."

"I'm not talking to Jo," I shook my head, pulling around the corner to the park behind Claire's house. "She went behind my back and deliberately hired someone to pretend to be my friend."

"Yeah, and that someone is now your boyfriend, so really you should be thanking her," she shrugged. "I don't even know Jo that well and I like her."

"Cas isn't my boyfriend, I don't even know what he is," I admitted, parking in the lot by the pond. I shivered at the memory. 

"Shut up, Dean, you guys are such boyfriends," she rolled her eyes and got out of the car. I started to unbuckle but she put a hand out. "No, you stay here, okay?"

"What? No, you said I could have a drink," I whined. "I want some of that hot chocolate with raspberry vodka!"

"I'll bring you one out, just... stay here okay?"

"I have to go to the bathroom!"

"Dean, oh my god, you know what, fine!" she shouted. "Let's fucking go then!" 

I grinned victoriously and got out, walking around the pond. Claire gasped upon seeing her skates next to it. "Damn, I must have left them out this morning."

"This morning?" I furrowed my eyebrows but kept walking next to her. 

"Yeah, I come out here every morning before anyone is up," she shrugged. "Why do you think I was already coming out that time when you fell in."

"I guess I forgot you even had skates with you," I shrugged. "That's pretty cool."

"Wow, Dean, thanks," she said sarcastically. When we reached her back door she put her hands on my shoulders and stopped me. "You're going to need to be quiet, okay?"

"Why? Are your parents home early?" She bit her lip and looked to the side. "Claire!"

"Okay, look I didn't want to tell you because I've been missing school, okay? And if you go in they could have found out and they might be upset."

"How have you been getting away with missing school? Damn, I forgot you're only sixteen," I put a hand to my forehead. 

"I'm a master of forgery, obviously," she flipped her hair and I gave her a skeptical look. "Also I changed my parents phone number with the school to mine, so now all their calls get forwarded to me."

"Claire, you have to go to school if you ever want a job," I explained. 

"Don't give me that shit, Charlie dropped out of high school and she's fine," she shrugged. 

"Charlie is tech savvy, and you, my friend, are not."

"We'll talk about this later, now come on," she waved for me to go inside with her. 

When I began to stomp in and shake the snow off my boots she turned around and smacked me, telling me to keep it down by putting a finger to her lips. 

It didn't matter, though, because there were already two men in the kitchen, one sat at her table, in the same spot I'd been in only a few mere weeks ago and the other cooking what smelled like bacon. The man who was sitting stared practically in adoration at the "chef" and I couldn't tell if it was out of love or because he was looking at his ass. Either way, both of them barely had any clothes on. The chef was shirtless but had flannel pajama pants on and the other had boxer shorts and a tshirt on. 

I couldn't tell for the life of me which was Alex and which was Claire's dad, although I knew I'd find out soon, seeing as they both turned to look when she shut the door behind me. The man at the stove's jaw dropped and the one who was sitting jumped up upon seeing Claire. He ran over and almost tackled her, hugging her tightly. I put my hands up and took a small step back, figuring that was her father. 

I tried desperately not to get distracted by the man standing at the oven, because damn he had quite the six pack. But I tore my eyes away and looked back to see Claire pushing him off. "Damn, Alex, it's not like your my dad get the fuck off of me," she muttered, fixing her coat.

It took me a second to register that Alex was the one who hugged her while her father remained at the stove. It didn't quite make sense to me, especially the fact that her dad was so fit and... attractive. He looked like he couldn't be over 30. 

"Well, hello, Claire, and where have you been, young lady?" he said, flipping the bacon and putting a hand on his hip. She shrugged, throwing her coat off and onto a chair by the table. Alex slid back into his seat and watched quietly, just as I did, except I stood awkwardly near the door instead. Neither of them had even glanced in my direction yet. 

"I've been staying with a friend," she said matter of factly, not really saying who or where. 

"This friend," he pointed to me with his spatula and finally Alex looked at me as well. 

She nodded, raising her eyebrows, "And some others."

He narrowed his eyes at me and began to approach me quickly, stopping about two feet from me. I didn't quite know how to respond so I just stayed still, and tried to smile. "And you are?" he asked menacingly near my face. 

"Uh.. I'm Dean... Winchester," I said, more uncomfortable than I'd ever been meeting someone's parents. I didn't know why, it's not like Claire and I were dating or anything. 

All my terror was in vain, though, because then a big, cheesy smile broke out over his face and he put his hand out in front of him. I lifted mine to it hesitantly and he shook hard. "Well, Dean, it is fantastic to meet you! I'm Jason, but you can call me Chase. Have a seat, would you like some bacon? I always love meeting Claire's friends!" his enthusiasm caught me far from off guard and I looked to Claire with my jaw hanging open. She simply rolled her eyes and sat next to Alex, who smiled kindly at me when Chase turned away. 

She gestured for me to come sit on the other side of her, so- albeit horrified- I walked over slowly. "What just happened?" I leaned over to whisper in her ear. 

She sighed and just sort of looked at me with an I told you so face. 

"Claire's mother, Samantha, is still in bed, but she should be down soon," he said. This time since I was still so surprised and dazed, I watched his back muscles move while he made breakfast. "Oh, yes, also, this is Alex. He's a close family friend."

"Very close," he specified, reaching his hand over to shake mine. "Nice to meet you." 

I smiled back, placing my hand on his. His hands were incredibly smooth, and when I pulled away, I'm pretty sure I smelled some sort of lavender hand lotion. I didn't mind it, definitely not, but whenever I met business men, they seemed to have "working hands". 

"So close you could almost say... polygamous," Claire murmured quietly. I nudged her with my elbow and gave her a look, but she just shrugged. It was all in good fun, I assumed, because both her father and Alex laughed, giving the impression that they were both very open about their affair. Although I guess when your wife is basically having an affair with the same person, it's a mutually open relationship. 

I was prepared for an awkward silence while I sat at the table, but Chase picked up conversation right away, and based on his laid back demeanor, I was less scared to answer his questions about the extent of my relationship with Claire, despite the fact that I barely had a relationship with her. 

"So how did you and Claire meet?" he asked, letting the bacon sizzle in the pan for a moment while he laid out plates for the three of us, and two more across the table for him and Samantha. 

"Oh, that's actually kind of a funny story," I began. "I was out in the park behind your house, just sort of standing on the pond and the ice broke!" 

They both gasped, genuinely interested and Alex chimed in with an, "Oh, dear!"

"And so, I guess she was coming out to ice skate, and Claire saved me," I finished unceremoniously, but I got a collective awww from both of the men. 

"Aw, she's so good that way," Chase commented with a proud smile as he put a few slices of bacon on each of our plates. "There's more where that came from and there are pancakes on the way," he added, winking at me. At least that's what I thought until he turned around and Claire pretended to gag. I elbowed her again. 

"Wow, thank you," I said on command. He just turned to smile in return. I took a bite into the bacon and froze mid-chew, looking over to Claire, who was smirking deviously, her bacon untouched. I put the rest of the strip down and chewed as fast as I could, swallowing quickly. I raised an eyebrow at her and she tried not to snort. 

The bacon was stale, and tasted like greasy cardboard. I leaned over and whispered, "What. The Hell. Is. This?" 

She turned and said, "Vegan bacon."

I closed my eyes, then looked back to the other four strips on my plate. I turned to Claire and practically pleaded with my eyes for her to eat it for me, because it was hard enough for me to get down that one piece without gagging. 

"I'm going to get some orange juice," she smiled, ignoring my pleas. "Would you like some, Dean?" she asked innocently while she opened her fridge. 

She got us both glasses and right before she put it away, Alex spoke up- already completely done with his bacon, "Could I get some, too, please, Claire?" 

I had wondered how he got it all down so quickly before I realized that he thought it tasted like shit, too and needed something to wash it down with. He made eye contact with me and grimaced when he looked at my plate. Across Claire's seat, he mouthed the words I'm sorry with a smile. 

She came back to sit down, balancing one of the cups on her forearm for me to grab while she handed one to Alex and put her own down. 

We started to make a game out of it, the three of us as Chase put down more and more in front of us. We tried who could finish first, who could eat one without gagging or drinking orange juice, who could eat four at a time. He just kept seeming to pile them onto our plates, always asking if we wanted more or if it was good. 

Even though I had barely even said two words to Alex, he started to grow on me as orange juice came out of his nose while he tried to eat six strips of bacon and wash them down with the juice. Claire and I burst out laughing, unable to contain it any longer. when he finally swallowed, he cracked up along with us, trying to blow his nose in the midst of his laughs.

Chase finally turned around upon hearing us, and saw that our plates were clear again. "What did I miss?" he smiled. He looked so completely oblivious at that point that the three of us couldn't calm down enough to come up with an excuse for what happened.

Eventually, though, Claire was able to compose herself and try to make something up, but just as she opened her mouth, a woman said, "Good morning."

We all turned and looked to see Samantha- apparently. She wore a white men's button down dress shirt with black underwear, so we could see through it very easily. It was barely buttoned to her boobs and didn't quite make it past her ass. I turned away and swallowed. 

Why were her parents both so attractive? Chase walked over and kissed her- I'm guessing. Claire rolled her eyes when I made eye contact with her, as did Alex, making me chuckle. 

Upon further inspection, I realized her mother didn't look a day over 30 either, and Alex even less so. He looked like he could have been my age. And when I looked at Claire after, she seemed to know what I was thinking because she leaned to my ear and whispered, "He's twenty six. My parents are both 32, they had me when they were sixteen."

Hearing that made me somewhat surprised, but more so impressed by the fact that they were able to make names for themselves, and have millions of dollars when they had a baby as teenagers. 

Suddenly, interrupting our little rendezvous, there was a knock on the glass doors behind the house. We all looked over to see Charlie, and the figure of Castiel behind her. Claire turned to look at me with furrowed eyebrows. 

"What are they doing here?" I asked, beginning to panic. 

"How should I know?" she shook her head, moving to stand and let them in. "These are the other friends I've been staying with," she explained vaguely to her parents. 

"Great, the more the merrier!" Chase exclaimed without so much as a hint of sarcasm. 

During their awkward introductions, I payed little to no attention, wondering why the hell Cas was here. I'd left for one specific reason- to have some space from him. If he didn't understand the fact that sometimes I needed some god damned space, this would never work. 

When I looked up, I saw that he remained shifted behind Charlie, and when we made eye contact he shook his head and started to mouth an apology, when Chase stood in front of him to shake his hand. I saw Cas's eyes move involuntarily to his torso, and although I immediately felt a sense of jealousy swirl in my stomach, I knew for a fact that I'd done the exact same thing. He forced his eyes up, trying to play it off that he'd just been looking at his hand. 

"Hi, I'm Chase," he smiled at Cas, shaking his hand with both of his around it. I looked to see Charlie smirking deviously at Samantha, who was practically stripping Charlie with her eyes as they shook hands. I cleared my throat loudly, catching her attention. She winked at me and I shook my head. 

Claire came back over to sit by me and Alex leaned over her to talk to me. "Who are they?" 

"Charlie has been living with me for a while, she's the ginger, and the other is Castiel. He's... well, he's-"

"He and Dean are dating, but neither of them will admit it to themselves, and they're both stupidly stubborn and never talk about their problems," Claire interrupted. "Basically."

Alex nodded in understanding, then winked at me. "I get you, man," he grinned. He was incredibly attractive as well. He had pitch black hair and dark grey eyes. His face was sharp, all of his features very prominent, although it worked very well for him. He had laugh lines around his mouth and near his eyes, proving me right in assuming that he was young, successful and charismatic because of his natural charm and sense of humor. 

Looking for a quick escape, Castiel practically sprinted over to sit by us when both Chase and Samantha moved to talk to Charlie. He sat right next to me, looking at me with worried eyes. 

"Dean, I'm sorry, okay, I didn't want to come, but Charlie really really did, and she was, like, begging me to, and she said that whether I came or not she was going to take my car and I really didn't want her to take my car, so I came and figured we'd be in and out I didn't know there were going to be so many people here and I'm a little irritated with her right now, but Claire holy shit your parents are really attractive, and hi, nice to meet you, and yeah so Dean I'm really sorry," he said incredibly fast. He took in a big breath and reached across the table to shake Alex's hand. 

"I'm Alex, it's really nice to meet you," he smiled. 

Cas smiled back, and I could tell by his eyes that he thought the same thing as me. Alex was young and attractive, so why was he here having three ways with the thirty year old parents of some teenage girl?

"Do I know you?" he asked. I guess he wasn't thinking the same thing as me. 

"What?" Alex asked, tilting his head to the side. 

"You look very familiar," he said, narrowing his eyes to see him better. 

"Oh, well, I have a twin brother, you might know him! His name is James? James Bond? No, I'm kidding it's James Smith," he smiled brightly. 

Understanding flooded Cas's face. "James is one of my patients," he nodded. "I'm Castiel Novak."

"Oh! You're that Castiel?" his whole face brightened. "Whenever we have family gatherings, James talks about you all the time! You have helped him so much Castiel, you have no clue," he smiled. "Thank you! Thank you so much."

Cas shook his head humbly, "Of course, James is an incredible man, and he is working hard to get better. He's doing an amazing job of it, too."

"I know, I know, but you sure are a big help," he nodded. "Wow. I never thought I'd meet the infamous Dr. Castiel."

"Oh, well, I'm not a doctor," he shrugged. "Not yet, but yes, he does call me that."

"Well, you do look like a blue-eyed wonder, I suppose," he laughed. "He always calls you 'Sky Eyes', it's cute."

Cas laughed, his own smile lines coming out. I found myself staring at him during their whole conversation. I knew that he noticed, and although he didn't return my stare, he did take my hand under the table, and I realized that I couldn't be mad at him anymore. Especially not while hearing what a big help he was to one of his patients. All I could picture was him working with some struggling man like Alex and I completely melted. 

"He should actually be done with our sessions, soon," he nodded. "He's been doing so well with his exercises and coping skills for when he has bad withdrawal episodes-"

My head shot up at hearing this. Withdrawal episodes? What kind of a therapist was Cas? Did he work at a rehab center?

"He also told me about how his friend Justine scratched you, but... I didn't know it was bad enough to need stitches," he said quieter. "I'm sorry about that. I know Justine is, too, but she's still in solitary. I just talked to James yesterday, so I'm all updated."

Castiel chuckled. "Yeah, but it's okay. I understand what she's going through. Withdrawal is hard, and she's been dealing with it incredibly well, especially for a meth addict. It's no wonder she's having such a hard time. But I think whether she had done this to me or not she should be in solitary for a little while during this stage. She doesn't have a mind conscious enough to realize that she doesn't want it anymore- oh, sorry, I totally just dampened the mood," he laughed when everyone went silent, and we chuckled along. I moved my hand from where it was holding his, and now he finally looked at me worriedly. 

I licked my lips and looked down at the table.

There were four new strips of bacon.


	14. Chapter 14

We stayed at Claire's house for almost three hours, just bonding with her parents and Alex. Cas and I ended up both getting his number, with a promise to go out to dinner sometime. I felt as thought it may be a little uncomfortable, considering Cas and I were together and Alex was in a relationship with our good friend's parents, but he was so laid back we figured it would be less awkward than we thought. 

As we headed out with Charlie and Claire close behind us, Castiel reached for my hand. I looked away and stuffed them into my pockets. 

It wasn't exactly that I was angry with him, but I didn't really know if I could be affectionate on a day like today. It started badly anyways, with that pressure on my chest and shoulders, and my throat closed. I should have known that it would be a flop to attempt to do anything at all today. Hearing that Cas worked at a rehab center was triggering as well. It only made me feel more guilty that I didn't do more to help Sam get clean. Or that Jo didn't.

Despite what Claire had said about Jo practically setting Cas and I up together, I couldn't forgive her for not getting Sam help from him when he was struggling. She knew that Sam was doing things that he shouldn't have been, and she went to no length farther than her own personal comfort to assist him. It was hypocritical of me to think, but I also didn't know a man who worked as a therapist in a rehab facility who could help. 

"Dean," he whispered, trying to make me look him in the eye. I just shook my head and hesitated before approaching the pond. The temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees since I'd fallen in, so I took the chance to walk across it. Right upon stepping on it, my foot began to slip. "Dean!" he said a little louder, grabbing my arm through my coat. I looked at his hand, then up at him. His face was practically begging me to get off of the ice, but I couldn't exactly process it. It was as if it was just when Sam had died; my brain was like sludge, never exactly sending signals to my emotions. So I sighed and pulled my arm from his gentle grip. I walked carefully across the pond, examining the cuts from Claire's skates like I had a few weeks before. 

I reached the other end without another slip up, but there was now adrenaline coursing through me upon facing my fear of the ice. I looked to her, gesturing to her car. 

"Oh, Charlie and I were gonna go home," she said, furrowing her eyebrows. "Or to your house I mean. Can Cas just take you? Seeing my parents is always really draining for me." She shrugged and I sighed. 

I was just about to protest when Cas's hand rested on my back, and he replied, "Yeah, I'll take him."

I groaned under my breath, speeding up so he wasn't touching me anymore. I got into the passenger's seat of his pimp-mobile angrily and crossed my arms while I waited for him to drive me to the cafe to pick up my car. 

He sighed and turned to me, "Dean-"

"Castiel, I swear to god," I shook my head, continuing to stare forward. "I am not in the mood."

"Not in the mood for what, Dean? Talking to me at all?"

"Can you please just give me some space for a little while, Cas? Please?" I asked softly. 

"Dean," he urged me to look at him and finally I did. "Of course I can give you some space," he shook his head. "All you ever need to do is ask, Dean. Please, just do that instead of stomping off or telling me that we'll talk only when you want to talk. If you say you need space, I can give you space, you just have to tell me what you want."

I was genuinely surprised, although I shouldn't have been. Castiel was always so calm and compassionate, never raising his voice or getting angry. "I-" he was so considerate that I didn't even know how to respond. I wasn't used to someone so chillingly stable. It was like I was stuck in complete darkness, and I barely felt a desire to get out, but when Cas came around, he was a flashlight, and I realized I wanted to get out all along.

I wanted to shake the thought out of my head, considering the fact that it made me sound like an absolute sap, but it made sense to me. Suddenly I wasn't irritated with him anymore. How could someone be mad at him when he's so sweet. 

Now that all my anger had simmered, my eyebrows furrowed and I reached for his hand, watching our fingers wrap around each other's. I looked back up at Cas and he offered a small smile. "I just want you to be comfortable, Dean, okay?" 

I scooted closer to him, now wanting the opposite of space, and laid my head on his shoulder, holding his arm with my free hand. Although I had only known him for a little over a month, he was such a sense of comfort in and of himself, that his comforting attitude seemed to transfer to me. 

I looked back up at him after a few minutes of sitting in silence and made a move to kiss him. 

He was incredibly gentle as he raised a hand to my cheek, and didn't let the kiss get more heated than what it already was- which was barely anything. I pulled back and furrowed my eyebrows. 

"You said you wanted space," he tilted his head to the side and searched my face. 

"Obviously if I'm trying to kiss you I don't want that much space," I rolled my eyes and he laughed. 

"Either way," he let his hand drop from my face. "I think you do need some space."

"What?" I pulled back more. Did he want space?

"I just think... Dean, we literally just jumped into this," he explained. "On a night when we were both drinking and you were struggling with Sam. And then we just kept going with it."

"Cas, I don't regret doing that, like... at all," I said, confused. 

"No, no, and neither do I, I'm just saying that maybe we should take things slow," he shrugged. "Considering the fact that you still obviously have some feelings about me being a therapist. We should do this like a normal couple. Let's just take it a little slower and see where it takes us, yeah?" 

"Slower how?" I raised an eyebrow. 

Cas laughed and rolled his eyes. "I mean no more getting drunk and making out on your bed and only stopping when Charlie interrupts."

I stayed quiet for a second and narrowed my eyes a little. "Okay," I nodded slowly. "Until when?"

He barked out a laugh again. "I don't know, Dean, until it feels right!"

"I thought it felt pretty right last time," I muttered with a smirk. He laughed and pushed my shoulder gently. "Okay, okay, I get it. Fine," I sighed, throwing my hands up in surrender. I obviously didn't have a problem with "taking things slow" with Cas, but I was just curious of the extent with which he was talking about taking things slow. Did he mean that he wasn't going to come over as much? Or we couldn't cuddle while we slept anymore? Or that we couldn't kiss like normal and it had to be closed mouth constantly?

I'd never been in a position like this before, and I didn't know how to react. It was an awkward subject to bring up, and I didn't know how I would end up asking about it, or whether I would just let whatever happened happen. 

As he pulled out of the parking lot and started driving to the cafe I made a noise of disapproval. "Can we just go home?" I groaned. 

"After," he shrugged, making his way to the cafe.

***

In the days following, I quickly realized what Cas meant about taking things slow. 

And it was agonizing. 

I didn't even care about most of the physical aspects that he wanted to take slow, considering we usually didn't do much that was physical, but he didn't spend the night with me anymore. He didn't come to the bunker as much, and we went out when I wanted to spend time with him. 

He left every night, or sometimes slept on the couch in the living room, and I hated it. I wanted to be able to cuddle with him; cuddling wasn't even about physical satisfaction, it was about comfort, and he had to have known that. Even worse, he said that he didn't trust us to stay at the bunker alone, so we always would go out to a movie, or ice skating again, and I was never up for any of those things. 

I figured part of the reason he always wanted me to come out was so that he could make me happier, and try to get me more comfortable around people, but I didn't want to be around people, I only wanted to be around him. Thankfully, though, if Charlie or Claire were home, he was completely content staying home and watching movies or playing games, but never completely alone. 

It was like that tonight, he came over and Charlie and Claire had gone out to see a new movie in theaters, and he quickly suggested that we go to a different movie or to a restaurant. 

"Cas, can we please just stay at home?" I begged. "I don't even care if we have boundaries or whatever, I just don't want to go out. I don't like going out."

He bit his lip warily and looked to the door. "Dean..."

"I just want to spend time with you," I approached him, reaching up to smooth the collar of his trench coat. "We can just stay in the living room and watch a movie... or make those Christmas cookies you wanted."

That was another aspect of our relationship we ended up actually discussing. Although, I guess it wasn't exactly having to do with our relationship. 

He'd gotten me talking about Sam and celebrating Christmas, and almost made me feel the usual happiness around the holidays that I did. It was nice, especially because I didn't feel as much guilt when I was excited about Christmas as I expected to. I was actually looking forward to a Christmas with Claire, Charlie and Cas. I still hadn't spoken to Jo or Ellen, although I figured they would try to talk to me before then. Gunther had since the funeral moved into an apartment close to the bunker, but he wasn't sure if he was going to come celebrate with us, or this new girlfriend that he had. 

"Christmas cookies?" his whole face lit up, like a little boy when opened a present. 

"Yeah, but only if we can just stay here," I smiled. I looked to his scars. He got his stitches out a day early, and he now had scars on his nice and jaw. I looked back to his eyes. 

He was biting his lip again, and I could see his internal debate. I knew however that if he kept biting his lip like that I couldn't make any promises about boundaries. 

He weighed his options by tipping his head side to side before sighing finally, "Okay, fine!" 

"Yay!" I cheered, pecking him once on the lips. It had become basic knowledge that if either of us started to deepen a kiss, Cas would quickly come to his senses and pull away, usually giving me a boop on the nose with his finger, then continuing with whatever we had been doing previously. 

"Okay," he rubbed his hands together. He worked quickly to look up a recipe for basic sugar cookies. Charlie and Claire had gone grocery shopping a few days earlier, thankfully so we didn't have to go get supplies, but we did have to substitute a few ingredients for others. 

Once we had all our ingredients on the kitchen table, we started to gather bowls and mixers, setting them on the table also, him standing on one side of the table, me on the other. He started to roll his sleeves up and I had to look away, since rolled up sleeves were a weakness of mine.

"Okay, ready, babe?" he asked, opening his phone back up. I smirked and he seemed to realize his mistake right away, correcting, "I mean Dean."

I winked and put my hands on the table, leaning over to continue to make fun of him for the pet name. When he was the one who would initiate a kiss, it was harder for him to stop short, so I tried to make him do it as much as possible. 

I watched as he froze, my face only a few inches from his. The wheels were turning in his head, I could practically see them. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes were narrowed at me. "Stop," he commanded playfully. "No."

I pouted. "Caaaaaaaaaaaas," I didn't know when I started being so needy. It was basically the day I'd asked for space, which seemed like an oxymoron, but right when he started giving me the space I thought I'd wanted, I started to grow clingier. He let out a huffy breath and pecked me on the cheek before looking back to his phone at the recipe. "Cas," I repeated. When he looked back to me, I leaned forward this time to press my mouth to his. He sucked in a breath and kissed me back, but stayed still otherwise, even when I walked past the corner of the table so I was directly in front of him. The rest of him didn't respond even when I held his face in my hands and started to run my tongue along his bottom lip. 

Actually for the first time in what felt like forever, he responded by opening his mouth. I eagerly continued, letting my tongue brush against his. This finally got a reaction out of him and I felt his fingers hook into my belt loops. It was little, but it was something at least. 

I took his reaction as an invitation to move my hands and lift him so he was sitting on the kitchen table in front of me. He lifted his hands to rest on the back of my neck and pulled me closer so our chests were almost flush, except I was higher up than he was. He let them run over my chest between us and down my torso. His hands moved up my shirt and to my sides before he froze completely. He removed them and pulled away from me, but not before giving me one last short kiss. 

"Dammit, Dean," he said softly and narrowed his eyes. I smiled victoriously and took a step back so he could get off the table. I shrugged, the grin still playing at my mouth. 

"Taking it slow, sure," I rolled my eyes, laughing when he crossed his arms and huffed out a breath. "Maybe you should have something to drink, and loosen up." He gave me a look, but then I noticed the change in his persona as he actually considered it. "Ooh, think you can handle yourself with some alcohol in your system?" I winked and lifted my arm to open the cabinet we'd moved our alcohol to so Claire wouldn't get it. I brought down some caramel vodka I figured they'd gotten while they went shopping yesterday. 

"No, no, I... don't... want any," he sighed. 

"Okay, okay," I shrugged, putting it down on the counter just in case he wanted some later. I wasn't going to make him drink any, because I wasn't going to be that guy, but I thought I'd give him the option, since he seemed much looser when he had some. I didn't want him stone cold, black out drunk, just barely buzzed so he was calmer. Not that he wasn't constantly calm, but he seemed to have a lot of pressure on him lately. "Let's start making these cookies," I rubbed my hands together. 

The process was easy enough, although Cas was wearing black jeans and a button up dark blue shirt today, so when we were measuring the flour, it inevitably got all over him. I laughed while he tried to clean it off and failed, finally huffing out a breath and saying defeatedly, "I guess I'll have a shot or two."

"Oh, you just want it straight? I was gonna put it in hot chocolate or something, you know, the Christmas spirit," I gave a thumbs up. 

"I just want it straight," he shrugged, sitting down and the table to rest his head in his hands. 

I furrowed my eyebrows and got a shot glass from a different cabinet and poured it for him, placing it in under where his head was. I moved my hands to his shoulders and started massaging them. "What's got you down, kid?" I asked, trying to keep the mood light and playful despite the fact that I was genuinely worried about him. 

He took the shot smoothly and put it down by the edge of the table, for another one, I figured. I poured him one more, planning on that being the last one since I knew he didn't handle alcohol very well, especially straight. 

"Nothing," he rubbed his eyes and took the second shot, placing the glass gently on the table while I kept rubbing his shoulders. 

"You have a lot of knots back here," I commented while I tried to work them out. He simply nodded. "Do you wanna talk about it?" I brought up after a few minutes of silence. 

"No," he sighed, standing back up. I dropped my hands. "Okay, let's finish," he said, working faster now to stir in the eggs and shape the cookies before placing them on the sheet and then in the oven. 

He started to clean up, and I put my hands over his. "Hey, hey, hey, stop," I moved so I could see his eyes. "Go sit, I'll clean this and be over in a minute," I promised. He smiled kind of sadly and touched my cheek before going to lay on the couch. 

I put things away half assed, and wiped down the table even more so. The timer had twenty minutes left on it, so I walked over to where he was laying practically face down on the wide couch. 

"Cas?" I asked, poking his back. 

"Yeah?" he asked, sounding muffled with his face in the throw pillow. 

"Do you want m e to keep massaging your back?" I offered. His back was completely tight and I felt horrible about it. 

"Yes, please," he answered pitifully. 

I frowned and made my way so I was sitting with my knees on either side of his hips, ignoring the awkward aspect of me sitting on his ass. I moved my hands up between his shoulder blades and started working out more knots. 

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" I asked. 

"Patient confidentiality," he sighed. "I can't."

"Oh..." I furrowed my eyebrows. "Well what if you just don't tell me who it's specifically about?"

He let out a deep sigh. "I don't know, Dean."

"That's okay," I assured, working down to his lower back. 

"I'm sorry I'm no fun today," he said quietly. 

"Hey, don't say that, you're plenty fun," I told him, putting the heel of my palm into a particularly tight spot. "Everyone has their off days. Just because you aren't making pun after pun it doesn't mean you're no fun."

"I still feel bad," he said. 

I moved my hands back up to his shoulders, but this time, out of instinct I leaned forward and kissed the back of his neck before I started over. He tensed and I gasped. "Don't! Relax, Cas, I'm trying to get rid of knots!"

He started to shift and I moved so I wasn't sitting on him anymore, just sort of kneeling over him while he turned around so he was facing me. "I am relaxed," he nodded, looking disheveled from having his face in a couch cushion. "Thank you," he grinned. He reached for my hands and started to pull me so I was sitting on his hips again and was leaning forward to kiss him. 

Since he was instigating it, I felt better, but when he went straight for an open mouthed kiss I paused. "Cas, are you sure you-"

"Shut up, Dean," he muttered with a smile, pulling me back down by moving his hands to my hair. He wound his fingers into it, pulling at the roots. I breathed in sharply, not expecting him to and he stopped. "Did I hurt you?" he murmured worriedly against my mouth. 

"No, never," I replied, moving back to working at his lips. He was more careful now, being almost too gentle as he ran his fingers down my back and under my shirt. He held my hips and slid his hands up to trace the curve of my back. I made a small noise of approval involuntarily that caused his to pause and open his eyes to look at mine with an incredibly adorable smile. 

He traced his fingers back down my spine, causing me to shiver and press somehow closer into him. His hands made their way down my hips to grip my ass, and he smiled against my mouth quickly, but moved back into moving his tongue in sync with mine. He caught my completely off guard by holding my hips more firmly and grinding them down into his. My breath caught in my throat just as his moan vibrated through our kiss.

I was about to pull away, knowing he obviously wasn't in his senses when everything started happening at once. He made a move to do it again and kissed me just as gently as he'd been doing as of lately, the timer on the stove started to beep and the front door opened. 

Of course we didn't hear that last one, but we heard the alarm go off and although Castiel made the decision to ignore it I sat up, panting and squeezed his hand before sliding off of him. I stood up and turned around, seeing Charlie and Claire standing in the doorway, staring at us with wide eyes and small smirks on their faces. 

"Shit," I breathed out. Claire put her hand in her pocket, still not taking her eyes off of us. 

"Wow," Charlie said. "You guys really go hard."

"It's not what it looks li-"

I was interrupted as I saw Claire pass Charlie a twenty dollar bill and realized. 

They'd placed bets on us.


	15. 15

"Okay so was that like, some casual making out, or?" Charlie asked, the money they'd bet on us tucked into her bra. 

"Yeah, was that like, something we could just walk in on at any point?" Claire added. "Because, I'd like a little warning next time."

"Honestly," Charlie leaned over, pretending to whisper. "I wouldn't, that was kinda hot."

I was sitting on the couch next to Castiel, my elbows resting on my knees and my head in my hands. Cas was in a similar position, but he was rubbing his temples. Overall I figured like we both looked a bit like children being scolded for misbehaving. 

The girls were standing directly in front of us now, subjecting us to their relentless torture. "You know, Charlie, maybe we should give them some alone time, and we can just seclude ourselves in one of our bedrooms- oh wait! This is a family room, right? Maybe the couple that's all over each other should be the ones to move to a more private setting!" Claire, put her hand up. "Unless of course you want to take after my parents and Alex," she shrugged. 

I finally looked up from the floor to meet her eyes and gave her a look. "Don't, Claire, okay?" I asked. I'd rather not feel guilty for her having shitty parents when I didn't do anything. "Guys, we didn't even do anything wrong, we expected you to be back later!" I stood up, now towering over both of them. 

"The movie was bad, so we came back," Charlie shrugged, shifting the giant container of popcorn over her hip. "But we brought food."

"Speaking of food..." Claire lifted her nose in the air. "What is that amazing smell?" she walked towards the oven, our former discussion completely forgotten as they recognized the smell of the cookies. 

This seemed like a good time to jump up for Cas, because he gasped and bounced to his feet. "Shit, we forgot the cookies!" he exclaimed, shoving past where Claire was using her hands to eat the last of the batter from the mixing bowl. He opened the oven quickly and threw on a mit, ignoring me while I tried to explain that it hadn't been twenty minutes. 

"Castiel, it's probably been like five minutes!" I countered his rushing movements. He ignored me and lifted the cookie sheet onto the stove top, waving away small amounts of excess smoke. 

"Are you sure, Dean?" he sighed and slipped the mit off. "Because the cookies are burnt," he whined, setting it down on the island. 

"How?" I tilted my head to the side. We definitely had not spent twenty minutes making out that would be crazy. 

"Maybe time passes a bit quicker when your tongue is down someone's throat," Claire shrugged before sucking cookie dough off of her finger and walking back into the living room. She flicked a lamp on and collapsed onto the couch we'd just been laying on. 

"Shut your face, Claire," I snapped. She shrugged and held her hands up in defense before resting them behind her head and sighing contently. 

"Just callin' like I see i-"

"Dean, can I talk to you please?" Cas asked incredibly politely. I was almost taken back until I remembered how distant he'd been lately. I just nodded and he tilted his head to the hall leading to the bedrooms. "In private?" 

"Oh!" I said, realization finally reaching me. "Okay, yeah," I put my arm out for him to go in front of me and when I walked behind him, Charlie slapped my ass and Claire cat called at us, earning them a middle finger from me as Cas led me to my own room. 

"Dean," he whispered, sitting on the bed and resting his head back in his hands. "I can't..." he trailed off and shook his head. 

"What?" I urged gently, sitting next to him to rub his back. He leaned into my touch briefly before retreating back to his former position. "Cas, what's wrong?"

He pulled his hands from face to turn and meet my eyes. His vibrant blue eyes looked drained and tired, and I cursed myself for not having noticed. "I... I can't do this right now," he said, his eyes moving down past my face. "I'm having... a lot of trouble at work... recently," he rubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply. "And when I come here, to the bunker, to spend time with you, I'm being boring and, just, I'm sorry."

I shook my head, laughing a little, "You're joking right?" I shifted so I was facing him more and put my hands on either side of his face for him to look at me. "Cas, it doesn't bother me at all that we hang out after work when you're tired and drained. It's fine, I'd rather you relax with me than over work yourself. You realize you're being crazy right now, right?"

He licked his lips and looked down. "That's... not all," he sighed, pulling away from me and fidgeting his hands in his lap. "I notice things about you, Dean... when you think I can't see you," he looked back up at me, cracking his knuckles nervously. "I know that you're struggling. I can see that... you want to just crawl into bed and never come out," he shook his head. "And... I don't want to disrupt your mourning time. I realized it after the incident with the Christmas stuff the most," he leaned back over to put his elbows on his knees. "You say you're fine, and you act like everything is okay, and you're ready to celebrate Christmas, but I can see that you aren't. I see that dread in your face every time you turn away from me or Charlie or Claire when we talk about it."

"Cas... don't," I begged. I didn't want to talk about this, I didn't want him to think that I was still in grief over Sammy. 

"No, Dean, I need to say this, okay?" he let out a ragged breath. "I've been trying recently to tone down things between us, just to get back to the way things were, when we were just friends-"

"What?" I furrowed my eyebrows. Did he want to be just friends?

"That's not what I mean, Dean," he assured. "What I mean is that... before everything happened that one night, I was helping you get better. I was reassuring you of yourself, being casual and not worrying about the way I acted around you," he pressed his lips together. "I'm not saying that I don't want to be more than friends. But what I'm saying is that... right now I'm having a lot of stress at work and you're still dealing with a lot of stuff. I don't want either of us to be using the other to get through whatever it is that's going on in our lives. Do you know what I mean?" he asked. 

I chuckled and shook my head. "I really... don't, Cas," I furrowed my eyebrows. "What you're saying is that we shouldn't help each other relieve tension or feel better?" I tried to dig some sense into him. 

"Dean, you don't understand," he groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not saying that I don't want to help you get better! You're completely misinterpreting what I'm trying to tell you," he sighed. "What I'm saying is that lately whenever things get... heated between us, I just feel like I'm dragging you farther down. I feel like I'm just helping you to bury all of your emotions about Sam. I feel the same with my work. But that's not what I want to be happening. I don't want to drag you down, Dean... I want to pull you up. I want to get you out of whatever sort of rut you're in right now and not dig you deeper into it."

I closed my eyes, trying to comprehend what Cas was saying. "Okay... I get it... I guess," I shook my head. "But you do realize you're the one who initiated things tonight?" I asked, somewhat irritated. 

"No, I know that, Dean, okay, I just-"

Our conversation was interrupted by his phone playing the funky Apple ringtone. He groaned and moved to decline the call but paused. 

"What?" I asked. 

"It's Alex," he answered, putting the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

There was a shuffling outside of my door, and I suspected that as usual, Charlie and Claire were listening in on our conversation, and hoped that they were just as confused as me when he said that Alex was calling him. 

"Yeah, what's wrong?" he asked, looking over to me and running a hand through his hair. 

Since when did Cas talk to Alex on the regular?

"No, I'm not busy," he assured and my hands raised in silent question. Cas gave me a pleading look, I assumed to stay quiet and I dropped my hands with an irritated sigh. "Is he alright?" he asked, panic rising in his eyes. "I- no, no, no, I can come, is he... did he do it?" he asked, tucking his arm under the other that was holding his phone to his ear. Relief flooded his face and he said, "Oh, thank god... Okay, I'll be right there. No, of course I'm gonna come, Alex!" he nodded vigorously. He closed his eyes blew out a deep breath through his nose. "No, nothing important. I can come right away," he promised. "I'm practically on my way right now. Five minutes, I swear," he said, already starting to walk towards my door. He hung up and the scurrying of Charlie and Claire on the other side of the door was evident, but at the time, I was too irritated to do anything. 

"What the fuck, Cas?" I asked, standing and following after him when he started speed walking through the bunker to gather his shoes and coat. "Are you serious?" I asked, laughing humorlessly. 

"Dean, look, I can't really talk right now, James was found about to shoot up," he explained. "I'm his therapist and I need to go," he said apologetically. 

"Did he end up shooting up?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"No, but I need to go to make sure-"

"Cas, he's a grown ass man and you're off the clock!" I raised my arms in incredulity. 

"Dean, please, I can't do this right now," he begged. 

"Cas, are you fucking kidding me? We were kind of in the middle of an important discussion that sounded a lot like you dumping me!" I shook my head. "I can't believe this!"

He shook his head too and slipped his coat on, putting his hands on either side of my face. "Baby, I swear I'm not dumping you," he assured, leaning forward to kiss me. I stayed still until he pulled away. "Dean, please don't do this," he pleaded. "I need to go."

"You don't need to go. And to me it sounded a lot like you were going for Alex's sake than James's," I huffed under my breath, starting to turn away. 

He grabbed my arm, and when I looked back to him, his other hand was resting on the door knob as he shook his head, "Dean don't. Don't turn this into something that it's not, okay? This is not about Alex, this is about his brother who happens to be a patient of mine, okay?"

I pulled my arm from his grip, shivering involuntarily when he opened the door and let the winter air gush in. "Yeah, well, Cas from what you were saying in the room, it sounds a lot like I'm your patient, too," I turned to block the breeze from reaching me and when I looked back, Cas had already left. 

I stood, staring at the door for a solid minute and a half, unable to believe that Cas had just up and left me standing there. Slowly, I heard the floorboards creak as Charlie and Claire snuck into the room. 

"What's going on?" Charlie asked hesitantly. 

"Don't, I know that you guys were listening the whole time," I sighed, turning to face them. "Can you fucking believe him?" I asked. 

"Well, Dean... he did sound a bit worried," Claire shrugged. 

"Are you serious? He fucking left me in the middle of breaking up with me!" I threw my hands up into the air. "Who does something like that?" 

"I don't know, Dean... but if I know one thing it's that he was right. We all thought you were getting better from Sammy, but we notice the little things. The fact that you don't smile as much as you used to... before... not real smiles at least," she sighed. "Dean, with Cas or without, you need to figure it out."

***

Ignoring Cas was practically impossible. I could barely act like I never noticed his texts much less decline his calls. He was relentless, even calling Charlie and Claire. 

I'd decided a few hours he left that he was right, and I needed some space and time from him. I figured it would do me good, considering the fact that I had so many things of Sammy's to still go through. I also needed to write. It was hard to come up with the motivation to write a story when you could barely find enough to live your life. 

I realized more and more that these were new realizations, maybe but not new occurrences. It just seemed to be more prominent when Cas wasn't around. He was right- he made me bury my sadness and gave me the motivation to get up and do things. Without him, I felt just what he'd described: I wanted to stay in bed all day and not do shit. This was incredibly difficult, though, with two pestering girls bugging me all the time. 

At the moment, I was in Sam's room, looking through his clothes and ended up slipping into one of his old sweatshirts. It seemed cliche to me, but honestly smelling him felt almost as close as listening to his voice. It was scary and comforting at the same time; it made me happy to know that Sam was around me, but it scared me because I knew that if and when I took it off, I'd lose him all over again. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a something vibrating against the hardwood floors. I began searching for my phone, looking under Sammy's bed before heading back to my own room and finding it on my own bed. It wasn't ringing. 

I continued to search for the source of the angry noise of a phone against the floor, and I bent down to look under my dresser, finally seeing another phone that I had forgotten all about. It was Sammy's. I pulled it out, seeing the name Gabriel at the top. 

I answered it warily, "Yes?"

"Hi, Sam?" a man's voice asked. "Where are you? You haven't been to the club in a while?"

"Uh... this isn't Sam," I said, feeling myself choke up hearing from someone who didn't know that Sam was gone. "This is his brother."

"Oh... where's Sam?" he asked, the sound of music and singing flowing in behind his voice. His words were slurred. 

"He's..."

"Can you tell him that if he doesn't come back soon... our usual deal is off?" he asked, sounding like he might pass out at any given moment. 

"Wh... what?" I stuttered. 

"The deal isn't... along term thing un...less it's consistent," he burped. "He'll know what that means-"

"Sam is dead," I said. 

"He... what?" the man- Gabriel- sobered up quickly. "He's dead? How?"

"He overdosed," I explained firmly. "On heroin."

There was silence on the other line; well not quite silence. There was the bass pumping in the background and the sound of drunken people shouting. "My condolences," he said softly. "Sam was... he was a good kid."

"Yeah," I tilted my head to the side, still kneeling on the floor, unable to move a muscle. "He definitely was."

"Shouldn't have gotten involved in this shit," he said sadly. "I always hoped he would get clean, you know, prove that he could be into that lawyering shit."

I chuckled humorlessly. "He would've been good at it." Anger started to bubble inside of me towards this unidentified dealer Sam seemed to have. "Hey do you think you could give me..."

He stayed quiet, only answering with a soft cough. 

"You know what," I decided against tracking the kid down and beating him senseless. "Nevermind." I hung up before I could make a decision I would regret. 

I looked at the phone for a few seconds, standing slowly. I wanted to go through it, find everyone who had anything to do with Sam's addiction, but I knew that doing that would do nothing to bring Sam back. 

It'd been almost a week since I'd spoken to Cas, and the past few days he'd decided to give me some space.

It was hard to not be able to look to Cas or Sammy for support. Charlie and Claire were good at comfort and giving advice, but I felt bad bothering them when they both had their own problems to deal with at any moment. I didn't know whether or not I wanted to call Cas, and before I could stop myself, I dialed his cell number, still on Sammy's phone.

He answered after the first ring, first a moment of silence when he picked up, then a hesitant, "Hello?"

"Cas?" I asked, feeling tears build up behind my eyes. 

"Who is this?" he asked angrily. 

"It's Dean," I said softly, knowing they were going to spill any second. 

I wasn't quite sure why I was crying, although it was fairly obvious. My brain was trudging through it's thought process like molasses and although I knew I was crying because of "Gabriel" I couldn't quite process the fact that he was Sammy's dealer and didn't even know that he was dead. 

"Dean? Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, and I heard the scratching of paper being handled somewhere near him. 

"Uh... I just got.... can I come to your work?" I asked, sniffling. 

"I... uh..." he cleared his throat. "I'll be by you five minutes, okay?" he asked. 

"Okay," I shook my head, throwing the phone onto my bed. 

I didn't remember when Cas started calling me baby, but honestly I didn't mind it one bit, especially right now. The flutter in my stomach seemed to shine a light in the pressure on my chest. 

I laid back onto my bed, pulling a pillow over my face to scream into. 

I was ready to be done with whatever it was that was happening to me. I wanted it to be over. I wanted to wake up and have Sam be in the bedroom next to me. I wanted him to ask me to quiz him on some random amendment and laws regarding concealed carry. I wanted him to beg to me edit his essay, despite the fact that I didn't know any better than him. 

I wanted him to drag me out of my room to have a snowball fight with him. I wanted to play our drinking games or go get burgers and sit at the pond together. I wanted to watch foreign movies on mute and come up with our own plots. I wanted him to make me go see the Lord of the Rings Trilogy and the two Hobbit movies in preparation for the final movie to come out. I wanted to waste 24 hours to have a James Bond movie marathon with him. 

I wanted to fight about who's the best batman. I wanted to go to laser tag with him for no reason. I wanted to have random water balloon fights with him. I wanted him to beg me to get a dog and name it Demon for no reason at all. I wanted him to ask if we could get a fish or a house plant or anything that he could call his. I wanted him to bring home a girl for one of our own personal holidays and plead with me not to embarrass him. I wanted him to ask me if I would lend him the car to go one of his college parties. I wanted him to ask if I wanted anything from the store. I wanted to make a 2am McDonald's run with him. I just wanted Sammy back. 

I flipped over on the bed so my face was buried in a pillow even harder now. My sobs were muffled by the cotton and eventually, even though I was gasping for air, I couldn't fill my lungs. I started to feel lightheaded and almost felt myself drifting off when someone pounded into my room, tearing the pillow from on top of me and forcing me to flip over, where my brain made me take in a huge breath. 

I took a few breaths with my hand clutching someone else's and when I looked up, I saw the familiar eyes of Castiel. 

"Dean, what the hell happened?" he asked, tugging my hand to help me sit up. 

I shook my head. "I-"

"I never should have left, Dean, I shouldn't have wanted to leave you, this wouldn't have happened if-"

"I got a call from some guy named.... Gabriel," I struggled to get his name to leave my lips. "He was Sam's dealer." I closed my eyes and felt Cas's stabling hand on my back. "Well, I guess Sam got the call, but... I answered his phone."

"Dean," he breathed, touching my jaw to get me to look up at him. "You should not have had to do that alone," he shook his head and ran his thumb along my cheekbone. "I'm so sorry."

"I..." I didn't know what to say as Cas turned so he was facing me completely and wiping the tears from my face. "It's okay," I whispered. 

"No," he shook his head and leaned forward to press his forehead to mine, stroking my cheekbones still. "No, it's not," he said. "It won't happen again, okay?" he promised and I nodded. I wondered what he would do if I tried to kiss him. 

I tilted my head to access his mouth and pressed it to mine, moving my hands from my sides to his neck. He allowed me to kiss him, responding immediately. I could practically feel his sympathy and understanding. The kisses were slow and gentle, and he maintained that pace even when I leaned back against the pillows and he threw off his coat and shoes to lay on me. Eventually, though, when I stopped crying, he kissed both of my cheeks, my nose, my forehead and my lips one last time before shutting off the lamp by my bed and putting his arm around my torso. He kissed the back of my neck softly a few times and played with my hair until I fell asleep.


	16. 16

I woke up the next morning sweating. 

Cas was laying on me, with his head tucked into my neck and his arms around me. I wondered how on earth his arms weren't buzzing with lack of blood and pitied him for when he woke up with no feeling in them. 

I started to sit up and slide underneath him so he would stay asleep, but much to my surprise, the moment I began to move his head lifted and he said groggily, "Good morning."

I froze, turning my head to meet his eyes as he rolled off of me. "Hi," I said, still not fully conscious. 

"Uh... how are you feeling?" he asked carefully. 

I furrowed my eyebrows as I started to recall the conversation I'd taken part in last night. Gabriel. 

"I feel like I wish I would've gotten that kid's address," I sighed. "I want to have my fucking fist in his eye," I let my head fall back onto the pillows behind me. 

Cas looked around the room before finally letting his gaze settle on me. "I understand, but that's not exactly the way to handle this," he said quietly. When I turned to glare at him, he wasn't looking at me, but was fixing the picture on my bedside table so you could see Sammy and I smiling at the camera with beers in our hands. 

"Cas, we've talked about how I feel when you act like a therapist around me," I groaned. 

"Okay, Dean, I have talked about that, you just keep using it against me," he said back, still completely calm. "But honestly it seems more and more like the only time you enjoy my company is when I treat you like a patient. And even if you don't I am a therapist, so I really can't help but care about you and give you pointers on how to feel better, okay?" he ran a hand through his hair.

I only enjoy his company when he treats me like a patient?

I hated to even try and comprehend the thought, but he seemed almost right. I'd been ignoring Cas for almost a week now and the only reason I ended up calling him was because I needed to confide in someone about the phone call. I could have just as easily gone across the hall to talk to Charlie or Claire. I'd always told myself that Charlie was like my rock. She was a constant in my life that I was always able to depend on, someone who could keep me stable. So what was happening now that was keeping me from depending on her and trying to depend on Cas instead?

It bothered me more than mere words can explain, and I almost wanted to kick Cas out and go have a heart to heart with Charlie about it right now. I wouldn't, but I felt so guilty about kicking her to the curb the minute I found someone else to talk to that I came near it a few times. 

I looked back up at Cas to find him watching me curiously. He wasn't angry; not that I could tell at least because he never seemed angry. I opened my mouth to say something and he tilted his head to the side slightly. 

"I..." is the only thing that came out. I wanted to tell him how I felt, let him know my thoughts, but for some reason I couldn't find the words to put together I logical sentence. 

"Dean, look," he said softly. "I have been trying so hard to make it seem less and less like I'm treating you as a patient, because that's not how I see you. But what you do is you push it and push it and push it until there's nothing I could possibly say that a therapist wouldn't say to a patient. And... these things just keep happening to us," he shook his head. "I don't know how I can fix that, so I need you... I need you to tell me what to do to fix-" he stopped short. 

"What?" I prompted. 

"Well, honestly, there's no reason to fix something when I don't know exactly where we stand," he told me, fixing his shirt sleeve. "I left on a bad note and I don't know what that means for us."

I hadn't thought about how we ended things the night before. The entire situation with Cas storming out on me to go meet Alex had completely slipped my mind. How was I supposed to address that anyways? Hey, so I'm kind of upset that you left me in the middle of what sounded like you breaking up with me to go by this guy- who has a record of dating people who are already in relationship-'s house to help his recovering brother who didn't even do anything. Can we talk about that?

I shook my head. "Yeah, you did leave on a bad note," I agreed. "Because you were talking about us going back to being just friends, then you left me to go with some other guy."

"That's not what that was, Dean," he groaned. "I didn't leave you for him, I left because his brother is a patient of mine who needed help."

"Castiel, you weren't even on the job at that point!" I stood up. "You weren't supposed to be working! In fact, you were tense from working too much!"

"You need to understand that with this job, Dean, there is no 'on the clock' and 'off the clock'," he made air quotes. "These are real people with real problems that I have to deal with, and it just so happens that problems don't always occur when I am at work!"

"Sure, Cas, but you have a fucking life, too! You have your own problems that you have to deal with too!" I countered. "There's no reason for you to have left because he worked through his issues, okay? He didn't end up shooting up, so you went to Alex for nothing!"

"Will you stop bringing up Alex? This isn't about him this is about James, my patient!" he corrected, now standing on the opposite side of the bed, his voice raising barely. 

"Really? Because you were going to decline his call until you saw that it was Alex last week, but you answered because it was him! What am I supposed to think about that?" I was shouting, unable to maintain so sullen for so long like Cas. 

"I answered because he's the fucking brother of my patient, Dean, so maybe if you would set your god damn jealousy aside, we could actually get somewhere," he finally yelled. 

I'd never heard Cas yell before. Granted it was probably only about a tenth of the volume and anger that I was using to yell, but it still was louder than his usual voice. 

"Jealousy? You think this is about jealousy?" I laughed. 

"Well, Dean, it's almost hard to think that it is, considering the fact that I don't even know what to consider us! Are we boyfriends? Are we just close friends who get a little too close sometimes? You have to tell me, Dean, because I honestly don't know!" 

"Oh my god," I chuckled. "I don't know what to consider us either, because before last week you would barely stay with me alone, much less kiss me or get close to me."

"Is that what this is?" he asked. "Are you upset because I wouldn't kiss you? Or be alone at the bunker with you?" he shook his head. "See, this is what I was trying to talk to you about when you thought I was breaking up with you. I told you that I wanted you to mourn and when we would kiss or be alone or do... whatever, you weren't getting better. I never wanted us to be alone at the bunker together because I knew that I wouldn't be able to keep myself from letting things go too far if you kissed me; or if I kissed you last week. I was trying to help you," he tried to explain. 

I looked away from him. "You wouldn't kiss me, because you were afraid that you would make things worse?" I asked. 

"Yes," he breathed, probably glad to have finally gotten his point across. "And I wanted to see if we could come to some sort of understanding or compromise to help you get better and you know... let me kiss you," he shrugged. When I looked up he looked a little embarrassed saying it but I didn't care. 

I wasn't sure how to respond, because I was still kind of upset about him leaving over Alex. "What about Alex?" I asked. His eyebrows furrowed. 

"What about Alex?" he started walking around the bed to approach me slowly. "Dean, you don't have to worry about Alex. He's nothing," he shook his head. "I swear, okay? The only reason I left was for James, because I was proud of him and wanted to make sure he knew he did the right thing." I stayed quiet even when he rested his hands on my shoulders. "Okay?" he said. I looked up to his eyes nodded. 

He gave me a small smile before leaning forward to press his lips to mine. I kissed him back without any hesitation and his hands moved to my face, mine somehow finding their way to his waist. I stepped back and the bed hit the back of my legs; I pulled away for a second to give Cas a questioning look. He just glanced at my lips and nodded, moving forward again to kiss me. I sat on the bed and pulled him towards me. 

Just then, with their usual great timing, there was a rapid pounding on the door, following by Claire shouting, "Hey, bitches, wake up we needa have a talk!"

We pulled away from each other and while I was annoyed in every aspect of the word and emotion, Cas looked thoroughly amused, just smiling down at me when I shook my head. He patted my head with a giggle, then walked away towards the door, making me drop my grasp on his sides. I sighed heavily, standing reluctantly to follow him and have this dreaded talk with Charlie and Claire. 

We walked into the kitchen just behind them, and they sat adjacent to one another, a mug clad in both of their hands. Charlie sipped hers patiently, grinning slyly at us over the rim. "I suppose you're wondering why we've gathered you here today," she said narratively as Cas and I slipped into the wooden chairs next to each other but across from the girls. I just sighed loudly and looked at her. "Good to know you are," she nodded, smiling wider now. "Well, the answer to that is: we want to know what's going on." She slowly lost her smile. 

I felt a rush of that guilt from before and looked at my hands on the table. I tugged at the sleeves of Sammy's old sweatshirt and cleared my throat. Suddenly another hand joined mine, resting on top gently. I looked back up to see it connected to Charlie's person. 

"Dean," she whispered. "We used to be closer than I'd been to anyone in my entire life," she squeezed fondly. "I don't mind that you have Cas here to pick up some of the weight I've been lugging around," she pulled back and looked to Cas with an eyebrow raised. "What I do mind is that he seems to be stealing you from me."

Claire covered her smile with her hand as Charlie leaned over the table til her face was only a few inches from Castiel's. He didn't move a muscle except to narrow his eyes jokingly. "Do you?" he said softly. 

"Yeah, hoe, I do," she said. "I don't care that you're together, I love that you are. But bitch best not be takin' my boy from me," she held back a laugh as she sat back in her seat. "Anyways! That's all, and I still haven't clarified that if you do any single thing that will hurt Dean, I'll literally find you and crush you," she smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes, taking a sip of her drink. 

"You know, Charlie," Cas began. "Threats are a very serious deal. They often lead to anger issues; have you ever considered anger management therapy?" he patted her hand on the table. "I could get you a hook up and a really good deal."

She tugged her hand away and stuck out her tongue, making him grin wider. 

"Hey by the way, happy Christmas Eve!" Claire shouted, throwing her hands into the air. "What do you guys want to do?"

My mouth fell open. 

I'd barely been keeping track of the days this month. I knew that Christmas was close, but I didn't know that it was tomorrow. 

Just like it had been for the past few days, I felt something heavy press itself onto my chest. It was lighter than usual, but it was still present. I looked to my left to find Cas already watching me. He brought two fingers under my chin and pushed up so I closed my mouth. 

"Don't do that, honey, you'll catch flies," he joked, trying to set a lighter mood. 

I appreciated it, just like I always did whenever he tried to make the best of a bad situation. I just smiled small and licked my lips, looking away. "I have no presents for anyone," I confessed, laughing. 

"I don't either," the three of them said in unison. Collectively all of our heads snapped up to look at each other. surprised at how in sync they were. 

"Woah," Charlie whispered. 

We just sort of dismissed it after that, coming to a mutual understanding that we weren't going to get anything for each other, and we were just going to have a night in with lots of food and a move marathon. We hadn't decided yet if we wanted to have a Robin Williams tribute and watch all of his films or a Johnny Depp one, even though he was still alive. We figured we'd fight it out tomorrow. 

Soon after, Cas dismissed himself, explaining that he worked soon. He retreated to my room to gather his belongings and was hesitant to at first, but ended up walking forward to kiss me goodbye. Just to make him uncomfortable, without thinking of the reaction it would get from Charlie or Claire, when he tried to pull away, I pulled him back and started guiding him to sit on my lap. 

"Dean," he murmured, wrenching back to glare at me playfully and blush when he glanced at the girls. "I hate you," he muttered before walking out the door with a final wave. 

When I turned back to Claire and Charlie, they were gawking back at me with wide eyes and open jaws. "Oh. My-"

"God," Claire finished. Both of them batted at each other, squealing incoherently until I finally cleared my throat loudly. 

"Guys," I said, lifting a hand. "Calm down."

They both returned to their former, still, positions and took deep breaths. "Okay."

"Okay."

"Alright," I said to finalize it. 

Charlie took a large gulp of her drink and looked to Claire awkwardly. 

"So do you guys want to talk or something? About Cas? Or what you've missed while he's been here?" I asked warily. I didn't know if I was prepared to disclose the phone call I'd had last night to them, but I trusted them just as much, if not more than, Cas.

"Yes," they both answered quickly. "Let's start with why Cas was here last night," Charlie suggested. "I thought you guys had been on a break or something."

I took a deep breath and ran a hand through my hair, adjusting the strings of the hoodie absentmindedly as I debated where to begin. "Well... I had been in Sammy's room, just looking through his stuff, like I do sometimes-"

"Well that explains why your hoodie practically goes down to your knees," Claire laughed, elbowing Charlie gently. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to me. 

"Whatever. But I heard a phone ringing and it turned out to be Sammy's. The caller was some dealer guy named Gabriel, I guess-"

"Oh, shit!" Claire interrupted, standing up, her chair making a horrid noise as it flew back. Her mug fell to the floor, shattering the moment it made contact, but she just looked down at her bare legs, clad only on a pair of pajama shorts. Her thighs were red and there was hot chocolate dripping down them. 

"Claire, what the hell!?" Charlie asked, rushing to grab a towel from the stove handle. She forced Claire to sit back down and dry herself off with the towel. I stood and grabbed the broom from the closet to sweep up the shards of glass. When I walked back, I grabbed another towel to wipe up the excess hot chocolate before sweeping it and found blood on the floor as well. 

I looked up to where Charlie gave her a bag of frozen vegetables to put on her burnt legs. "Claire give me your foot," I requested, putting my hand out. 

"What?" she asked. 

"I think you cut your foot, let me see it," I curled my fingers to urge her foot forward. She lifted it, and just as I'd suspected, she had stepped on one of the pieces of glass. Thankfully it was pretty small, and I plucked it out of her foot easily, wiping it with the unused towel to make certain that there was nothing else there. "Okay, there you go."

I took care of the mess on the floor with caution, not wanting to reenact Cas's battle scars with my own. When I was done, Claire and Charlie were sitting down again, a new mug between her hands. I sat back down and sighed, draping the garbage bag over the back of my chair. I'd throw it away later.

"Claire, what the fuck happened?" Charlie asked touching her shoulder gently. 

Claire laughed, tugging the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands. "Nothing, I just lost my grip on my mug, that's all. I just barely missed the edge of the table. "

Charlie and I both nodded in understanding. None of the three of us were exactly graceful, so we shrugged it off. It could have happened to any one of us. 

It could have happened to any one of us.


	17. chapter 17

Christmas eve passed slowly but surprisingly, I didn't mind that it continued to drag on and on until Cas finally came back from work, this time in an atrocious Christmas sweater, puns flowing out of his mouth at the drop of a hat. 

"Oh my god, Cas," I groaned, resting my head in my hands upon seeing him. "What are you wearing?"

"Pfft, clothes obviously," he rolled his eyes, skipping towards the couch to flop down next to me, right under where my arm was resting above it. He looked up to meet my eyes and gave me a short kiss on the mouth. 

"You're in a good mood," I commented, letting my arm relax slightly so it was curled around him. I flipped through the channels unceremoniously, deciding to stop on How the Grinch Stole Christmas. 

"Aw, Dean, look, you're on TV," he pointed to the screen the moment Jim Carrey popped up, glaring at the little girl. 

"Damn," I whispered. "Sassy, too, what did you do at work today?"

"What?" he asked. "Oh! The usual, I guess, nothing too fun," he shrugged. "Got a few comments on my scars but nothing out of the ordinary."

"Oh, cool," I replied, taking a sip of the egg nog on the small table in front of my. 

"Ooh, gimme!" he said, reaching his hand out to grab the mug from my grip and drink. "Wow, how very festive of-" he burped. 

He didn't finish his sentence and I shifted so I could look at him, but he just cuddled further into my side, so I stopped. 

Just as we started watching the movie, he interrupted with a question, "Hey... Dean?"

"Yeah?" I asked, only half paying attention. 

"Why do you think they call it crowning when a woman has a baby? Months of pregnancy and labor should in no way be associated with the monarchy," he chuckled. 

This scenario seemed awfully familiar, and this time I pulled away more so I could look into his eyes. 

"Cas?" I asked, tilting my head to the side to make him meet my eyes. 

Finally he did and he raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Are you... drunk?" I asked, furrowed my eyebrows at his glazed over eyes and altogether tension and carefree persona. 

"Pffft, what? Why would I get drunk at work?" he asked, rolling his eyes, "Obviously that's just plain illegal, considering I work with a bunch of alcoholics." he snorted, rolling his eyes again. He then held onto the cushions of the couch and froze, appearing to stabilize himself. He shook his head and laughed, "Woah."

"Wait a second," I lifted a hand just as another question occurred to me. "Why were you working on Christmas Eve?" I asked thoroughly confused at this point. 

"Uh..." he looked down then back up. "I don't understand the question."

I stood up quickly. "Cas, where were you today?" 

"Shh, Dean, don't yell, they'll hear you," he stood up unsteadily and put a finger to my lips sloppily. 

"Castiel," I planted my hands on his shoulders. "Where. Were. You. Today?"

"I told you, I was working," he tapped the side of his head. "Remember?"

"Okay," I sighed, letting my hands drop. "I'm gonna ask one more time before I look through your phone. Where were you today?"

"What? You can't look through my phone that's public property!" he said, crossing his arms and swinging them from side to side. He paused. "Wait not public property. I meant public property. I'm such an idiot sometimes."

I glared at him. I didn't even care if he hadn't gone to work today, I just wanted to know why he'd lied to me and why he was drunk. 

"Okay, fine," I finally said, feeling defeated. I put my hand on his lower back, leading him to my bedroom. 

"Are you-" he hiccuped. "-hitting on me? Are you asking me out on a... date?!" 

"Cas..." I shook my head, closing the door to my room behind us and shoving him gently to sit on my bed. 

"Sir, at least buy my a drink first," he put a hand to his chest while I walked around him to find pajamas for us both. I threw a pair of flannel pants at him and changed into my own without a second thought, considering the fact that he was talking to the wall in front of him and I was standing behind him. "I am, in fact, a lady."

"No, my lady, I think you've had quite enough to drink," I said, crawling onto the bed behind him. I put my hands on his shoulders again and said into his ear, "Go change so you can go to sleep."

He stood up, about to change right where he stood but I held up a hand, "Hey, hey, woah, go change in the bathroom!"

He rolled his eyes, ignoring me, and continued to pull his sweater off, followed by his jeans. He stood at the foot of the bed, wearing only his boxers and turned to whine, "Do I have to put pants on?"

I closed my eyes, knowing that if I kept looking at him, his face wasn't what I'd be focused on. "Yes, Cas, you have to put pants on."

He groaned, "Whatever."

When I felt pressure on the other side of the bed I opened my eyes to find him climbing under the sheets next to me. I slipped under them as well, laying on my back to look at the ceiling and walk through my own thoughts. He laid on his side, facing me, willing me to turn and meet his gaze. 

I refused, because I was upset that he'd lied to me, and continued to look at the blank white plaster above me. He rested his hand on my chest drawing circles and designs across my torso to urge me to make eye contact with him. I continued to ignore him, only moving to rest one of my hands behind my head and keep thinking. 

"You know what you should do?" he asked. 

"Hm?" I hummed, not moving a muscle. 

"Buy some eggnog, I was thinking about it and I haven't had eggnog in like... a year," he chuckled. 

I didn't respond, knowing that he was such a lightweight that he wouldn't be able to remember stealing my mug of eggnog from me not even ten minutes ago. 

I practiced restraint as he kept moving closer, never ceasing to draw on me with his finger tips or touch my neck and face until finally, he fell asleep midstroke. 

I sighed in relief and looked to study him. He looked so angelic while he was asleep, nothing like how he'd been acting today. It didn't take long for him to fall deeper into his sleep, snoring softly from time to time. 

I, on the other hand, was having a difficult time even closing my eyes, because every time I did, I saw one of two things. One: Claire dumping hot chocolate everywhere and cutting her foot at the mention of a drug dealer named Gabriel. Or two: Sammy slipping down the porch steps out front when I made an innocent joke about him being high. 

There was an obvious common factor between the two, but I in no way wanted to even entertain the possibility that it was true. I tried for what seemed like hours to push the thoughts to the back of my mind, but to no avail. 

That is, of course, until I heard Cas mumbling something in his sleep. 

Something that sounded a lot like a name I'd been hearing more and more of recently. 

Something that sounded a lot like, "Alex."


	18. chapter 18

I never ended up getting even a small taste of sleep that night. I just continued to watch the barren ceiling as though it might give me answers to the two prominent questions in my head. All night I'd heard strange shuffling noises and laughter, along with the occasional bump or fall from Charlie and Claire and I willed them to be quiet. My eyes burned from lack of sleep and watered consistently throughout the night. I had to resist the urge to wrap my arm around Cas when he nuzzled closer in his sleep, finding it extremely hard once I noticed that he was shirtless. 

Eventually, after the hours dragged on like days, he started to shift in his sleep, blinking wearily. I looked over to where he rubbed his face and yawned. He turned to see me and jumped. 

"Oh, wow, I don't remember coming over here last night," he laughed, then winced and raised a hand to his head. "Damn, my head is pounding."

I sat up, leaning against the wall behind the bed. "Yeah, that sounds about right," I sighed, trying to be careful with the subject in my sleep deprived state. "You were pretty drunk when you came over."

I could tell he was taken aback by my harsh tone, and he paled slightly but recovered quickly, just like always. "Yeah, a few buddies of mine from work decided to go out and get a drink or two, just to celebrate the holidays," he shrugged. 

I nodded at the plausibility of his story. Or what would have been plausible if he hadn't been whispering a certain someone's name in his sleep. "Oh, that must have been fun," I replied, playing along. 

"Yeah, it was," he laughed. "There was a secret Santa and I got this hideous Christmas sweater."

I nodded. "I saw."

His head tilted to the side and he shifted so he was sitting closer to me. "Dean, what's wrong? Are you mad at me?"

I sighed, finally turning to meet his gaze. "Well, honestly, I just wanted to ask you about what you were dreaming about last night," I unfolded my arms to rest my hands in my lap. 

His eyebrows furrowed in thought for a moment, then he shook his head. "I don't really remember what I dreamt about," he shrugged, chuckling. "Sorry... why?"

"No reason," I replied. My mind was reeling with possibilities and thoughts as to why he's lying and what's actually going on. I prayed silently that this whole thing was just a big misunderstanding and I was overreacting. "But in your sleep, you were just... saying some stuff."

"Oh?" he asked, moving so his legs were criss cross on the bed. 

"Yeah, you said 'Alex'," I finally stopped pretending like everything was okay and narrowed my eyes a little. "Care to elaborate?"

His eyes widened a little and he stuttered, "I-uh-we-" I just cocked my head to the side to hear his story. "I.... okay, Dean, listen-"

"Listen?" I asked, jumping to stand at the side of the bed. I had too much energy to sit there quietly while he came up with some shit explanation. "Listen to why my boyfriend is, for some reason, mumbling the name of a man I very much so dislike while sleeping in the same bad as me? Cas, there isn't an explanation out there that would make me feel better listening to that!"

He sighed, dragging his hands over his face. "In that week where you weren't talking to me, yes, fine, I started talking to Alex and James on a more regular basis," he said, looking defeated. "But I didn't want to tell you about it because I knew you didn't like him and it would just make you upset."

"Well yeah, Cas, it makes me upset!" I hated the fact that I was shouting and Cas was still sitting on the bed calmly. I always noticed it, and without fail it irritated the living fuck out of me. "Not only that you were with him; a well known homewrecker but also that you blatantly lied about it! Because do you know what it makes me think when you kept that secret about him to yourself? It makes it seem a lot like you're messing around with him!"

He groaned into his hands. "Oh my god, Dean, I swear I'm not."

"Oh my god, Dean is right, Cas," I said, much quieter now. "I just want to know what's going on. I want to know why you're talking to Alex- and don't say it's because of James, because I wouldn't care if you were one on one with a patient of yours, but Alex? I happen to care a lot about that."

"Dean, absolutely nothing is happening between Alex and I. I have no interest in being associated with someone who practically ruined one of my close friend's lives," he assured. "But it kind of pisses me off that I have to tell you that. Why do you have this- this standing thought in the back of your head that I'm going to cheat on you or something?"

I scoffed and folded my arms. "Because that's sure what it seems like, right now."

"Do you want to call Alex, Dean? Because he sure is open with the relationships he has with people who are already committed, I'm sure he'd tell you all about it if he and I had one," he shrugged, reaching to the floor to pull his phone out of the pocket of his pants. 

The doorbell rang and I sighed, running an exasperated hand through my hair to go answer it. Before I even reached the kitchen, I saw Charlie running to the door to see who was there, and Claire was at the stove, making what smelled a lot like bacon. 

I noticed immediately the difference in the house and it now made sense why they were making such a ruckus last night. There were fairy lights draped over every corner possible, a Christmas tree in the corner in the living room, decorated practically to perfection, and plates of cookies and food on every surface and counter there was. 

I started to walk over to her, figuring it was probably Gunther and his girlfriend at the door. It couldn't have been Jo or Ellen because I still hadn't spoken to either one of them in weeks. Next to the burner that was cooking bacon, there was already a plate stacked high with crispy slices. I snagged one, earning a slap on the arm from Claire and kept walking in my irritated state to invite Gunther in. 

The moment I saw who was walking in the door I froze, and when Claire turned to glance halfheartedly, she froze, too. Her parents walked in, and trailing closely behind them with his big lost puppy eyes, was none other than Alex. Charlie was more than welcoming to them, taking their coats and lifting the neatly wrapped boxes and gift bags from their hands, placing them under the sparse tree.

"Merry Christmas!" Alex laughed, engulfing Charlie in a hug. She laughed, more than willing to hug him back, and I suddenly felt like everyone was talking to Alex behind my back. When I turned to study, Claire, she looked just as perplexed, if not more at their affection for one another. 

Just then, Cas started walking in from the hallway, his chest bare and his pajama pants dangerously low on his hips. In any other circumstance, I probably would have led him back to the bedroom, but right now I was still too surprised to make a move to do anything. He didn't notice them at first, just approaching me, probably to try and talk things through with me, but a voice greeted him before he could say something. 

"Cas, hey! How ya doin'?" Alex's perky voice grated on my nerves and when he turned around to see him standing across the room from us, he froze, his eyebrows furrowing. Alex, on the other hand, looked a little too pleased upon seeing that Castiel was shirtless, simply stuffing his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels, trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably. 

"Uh-" Cas stuttered. "F-fine, um, you?" he asked, and Alex smirked, his eyes traveling down from Cas's face. 

"Well, I am great now," he laughed, and that was my last straw. 

I took Cas by the shoulders and started guiding him back to the bedroom. I only muttered an irate, "Excuse us," and closed the door behind us. 

"Dean, what are you do-" I interrupted him by trapping him against the door with my hands on either side of the wood against his head and lowering my lips to his, only realizing it once I felt the butterflies erupt in my stomach. 

I was personally surprised that I did it, but he didn't seem to be, eagerly grabbing my hips to pull me closer to him. My original intent had been to make him put a shirt on- a shirt that was too big, preferably- and maybe cuss him out for Alex being here, but hey, I wasn't exactly against the final result of dragging him back to my room. 

His mouth was hard on mine, almost forcing it open to deepen the kiss. I didn't complain, because suddenly my hands weren't on the door behind him anymore, they were sliding over his chest and torso, pressed flat between us until I brought them back up to his neck. I used my leverage to tip his head back so I could kiss down and back up his throat, moving back to his mouth needily. 

This time, it only lasted a few seconds, because Cas pulled away to look at me, and I paused when he moved to continue. 

"What?" he breathed. 

"We should probably go back out there," I sighed, pressing my forehead against his to kiss him briefly, hating myself for stopping him. 

"What? No," he whined when I walked away, towards my dresser. "What was the point of bringing me back here if you're just gonna- oh," he sighed upon seeing the shirt in my hands. He took it from me, understanding written across his face. "Well do you believe me now that there's nothing going on with Alex and I?" 

"Cas," I put a hand to my face, rubbing my eyes before looking up to see him slipping into my shirt, that strange sense of satisfaction rising when he wore my clothes. 

"Seriously, Dean, he would not have looked so surprised to see me shirtless if he'd seen it before," he said, putting his hands on my face so I'd look down and meet his eyes. 

"Yeah, a little too pleasantly surprised," I grumbled jealously. 

"Dean?"

"Yeah, I believe you," I whispered. "Sorry, I'm just paranoid."

"I know, it's okay," he shrugged, standing on his toes to kiss me again, walking away the second I started to raise my hands to his waist. 

I walked out behind him, and immediately upon entering the kitchen and living room, the atmosphere changed. You could practically cut the tension with a knife.

Claire was still standing in her former position, looking painfully awkward as she observed the situation in front of her, but this time, her plate of bacon was on the table, and the pan she'd been using earlier was empty, aside from the grease in it. Charlie was sitting in a reclining chair across from the couch, facing the couple and Alex, who was sitting between them, looking horrified. 

"So, I don't know what's going on," she continued, picking up where she'd left off. "But you need to get your shit together, because Claire still has to live with you for two more years, and her life is already a living hell. So either start acting like real parents to her or she's moving in with us."

The three of us were all stood completely petrified, never hearing that tone in Charlie's voice. 

Her parents stood, without a word and started walking to the door. Charlie stood, too. "I'm going to need some sort of verbal response telling me that you understand."

Samantha raised her middle finger, an angry look on her face and left right after her dad. 

Obviously, they didn't care too much about what she'd said, especially considering the fact that Claire was still standing there with us. 

"You," Charlie pointed to Alex. "This is all your fault anyways. Get out."

"Wha- are you kidding me?" he asked, blatantly surprised. "It's my fault that they cheated on each other?"

She scoffed, "Uh, yeah, so I want you to leave."

He raised his hands in exasperation and looked to Cas and I; neither of us moved a muscle and he scoffed. "You know what, whatever," he shook his head and stormed out after the couple. 

It was quiet for a minute until Charlie let out a breath, sounding cheery. "Well, guys, look at all these fucking presents!"


	19. chapter 19

"Okay, 'The average shelf life of blank is about two years," Charlie read, glancing up at the three of us with an amused grin. She pulled the other cards from under her leg. "'Seven dead infants stuffed into cardboard boxes'," she gasped, trying not to laugh. "'Seventy-two virgins', and... 'iPhone dick pics'," all four of us laughed at the answers and she groaned, lifting her hand to her forehead. "Oh my god, this is hard," she giggled. 

"That's what she said," Cas and Claire uttered in unison. Both of their eyes went wide as they looked and each other and burst out laughing before turning back to Charlie. 

"But I'm gonna have to go with... 'Seven dead infants stuffed into cardboard boxes,'" she shook her head. "That's gotta take the cake."

Cas threw his hands into the air, doing a happy dance while taking the black card from Charlie's hands. 

We'd been playing Cards Against Humanity for about four hours now, and as we got through every round, I questioned more and more if Cas should really be authorized to be a therapist. He'd been winning almost every round with his abundance of morbid cards, including (full statement), the following:

'Keebler All-Elf orgy was totally worth the trauma'

'It's too dangerous to go alone, take an ice pick lobotomy'

'Before I am president, I must destroy all evidence of my involvement with the sensitive European photographer who's fucking my wife'

and my personal favorite

'TSA guidelines now prohibit draining Carl Sagan's corpse of its mysterious energies on airplanes' 

I did have to admit, though, despite being slightly traumatized by Cas, and having Charlie and Claire both meet my expectations with their sociopathic answers, the game was incredibly entertaining. It was half past midnight and we couldn't seem to stop. 

Every plate of food Charlie and Claire had prepared during the night was almost licked clean, and every ounce we didn't eat was wrapped up and in the refrigerator for leftovers later. I hadn't made mention to Cas anything about wondering where he'd been all day yesterday, but he didn't give me any reason, too. I think he sensed that Christmas would be hard for me, and he was being extra affectionate today. It started with him always touching me, even if it was small; a hand on my back, my arm, holding me hand or on my knee. But he grew bolder and would sneak kisses whenever Charlie and Claire were turned away. Eventually one of them caught us, and he did it whenever he felt like it. 

I wasn't complaining, especially because every time he did it, I felt the weight on my chest get lighter and lighter. It was easier to breathe, I was happier. But this was a different kind of happy than what I'd been feeling before our talk. It was snow-like; genuine, fluffy and pure. I was legitimately glad to be in Cas's presence. He shifted his hand from my knee to add his card to the stack of others, replacing it almost immediately after. 

I, of course, realized that day just how quickly we'd jumped into our relationship. Of course we'd already been friends for a month before we even started dating, but it'd been about three weeks since then and we'd broken up almost three times. I hoped that it was just the rustiness of a new relationship and that we'd hop into it with full force now that things seemed to be settled. 

"Okay, you know what?" Claire whined, interrupting my thoughts. "Let's do something else, I think Cas has asserted his dominance enough for one night."

Charlie's head snapped up, locking eyes with me, a mischievous twinkle in hers. "I think that's for Dean to decide."

I sighed loudly, rolling my eyes at her, but I was unable to contain my laughter. She high fived her partner in crime and I turned to glance at Cas, finding him sitting with an eyebrow raised and I small smirk on his face. He turned to look at me and winked and my mouth fell open. I was still smiling but I was now more than a little surprised by his sudden increase in sassiness and self-confidence. 

The girls, too busy with themselves, thankfully didn't catch his wink, but found us staring at each other in the aftermath, where I was shaking my head and pushing Cas's shoulder gently. 

"Aw look how cute," Charlie said sarcastically, pretending to gag after. They laughed in their immaturity and started to stand up. 

"What are we doing?" I asked, started to stand and turning back to offer Cas a hand up. 

"I don't know, maybe watch a movie or something," Claire shrugged as she knelt back down to gather up the cards and put them back in their box. "Maybe-" a loud clap of thunder rang out and Cas jumped, but the rest of us just froze. I started towards the door; it was unusual for their to be a thunder storm in the middle of winter, unless it was a snow storm or a blizzard. When I opened it, I found flurries of snow falling around me, and just then a streak of lightning brightened the entire sky. 

The sky, though littered with clouds, was a slew of colors. There were dark blues, pinks and yellows on the horizon; and when the lightning came, it looked incredible. I stood there, in awe for a few moments until I felt a warm hand on my back. Since I knew it was Cas, I didn't look at him, I just kept watching the sky. Charlie and Claire slipped out from behind us and walked towards my car, laying back on the hood to watch the snowfall. 

Cas's hand on my back shifted, moving upwards so his hand rested on my shoulder. This time I turned to look at him, and he was already watching me, a peaceful look on his face. I didn't understand until that point, just why Cas was always so passive and calm. There was no way, still to this day, to explain the warmth I felt throughout me when I saw him that night. It sounded cliche, but seeing nature in such a way that the sky was angry and dark, and the snow was so light and joyous just put me at ease. And I knew Cas felt the same way; at ease. 

I searched Cas's face and he tilted his head to the side, just barely, in question. I leaned down and kissed him, and for some reason it felt different that time. Even as I lifted my hands to his hips and he touched my cheeks, it was a new experience. I didn't feel the usual pull to either stop or never stop touching him. It was all in the moment, and I wasn't worried about where we'd be months from now, days from now or even twenty minutes from now. While I pulled him closer, all I thought about was now; the scene we were painting. The sky, the snow, the girls on my car. 

We were a family. 

Cas pulled away first, and shifted, wrapping his arms around my neck to hug me, and that was enough for me. Having him close, his scent around me, all of it. When I returned the favor by putting my arms around his torso, I felt a new sensation. 

I loved Castiel.


	20. chapter

I don't remember how much time passed while we were out in the cold, just sitting under the dark sky, watching, waiting for something; I don't know what. But none of the four of us made the move to get up and leave.

Cas and I had since left the porch to join Claire and Charlie on the car; they'd moved up- carefully after I'd threatened them for scratching my car- and we moved to the hood. It was silent outside, for the most part, since it was midnight. Eventually, shortly after we came out the snow stopped and the clouds parted to reveal a navy sky with a tone of almost crimson to it, believe it or not. Surprisingly, none of the four of us complained at all about the temperature, because it seemed unimportant. It wasn't cold enough for us to be shivering at that point, so we were content in our long sleeve pajama shirts.

Cas fell asleep on my chest, so he was enough to keep me warm. I was almost certain that the girls were asleep as well, because I heard a soft snoring coming from one or the other of them. I sighed contently, fixing my arm around Castiel and looking up to admire the stars.

I sat there silently, focusing on Cas's breathing while the clouds moved and dissolved in the air. "Dean?" someone whispered. I craned my neck to look at whichever of the girls was calling me. I saw Claire laying on her stomach, her chin resting against her hands, folded in front of her.

"Yeah, Claire?" I whispered back, surprised to find her awake.

"I wanted to thank you," her voice broke, and it was that moment that I saw Claire cry of sadness for the first time. She took a shaky, deep breath. "I wanted to thank you for taking me in... and for being there for me like my parents never were. Thank you for taking me under your wing and taking care of me."

I'd never seen Claire show so much emotion and for a minute I was overwhelmed with sadness for this girl who seemed hard as a rock and broke down in front of me. I gently lifted Cas's head and squeezed out from under him, laying him back down on the car. I walked around the car to where Claire was laying and folded my arms on the roof, putting my head on them.

"Claire, you never have to thank me," I shook my head. "Not for anything, okay? I'm here for you now, and I swear I always will be." She wiped at a stray tear on her cheek. "That's what family is for," I reached over and squeezed her hand. She sat up, scooting to the edge of the car to hop off, and rammed herself into my chest, hugging me tightly.

She'd never hugged before. Not once, not ever. I immediately hugged her back, and a rush of familiarity found its way through me.

The familiarity of having someone younger and more influential than me saying that they depend on me. The familiarity of a troubled sibling, of someone who needed my help.

"Merry Christmas, Dean," she mumbled against my shirt. I rubbed her back comfortingly and choked back tears.

"Merry Christmas, Claire."

Shortly after our emotional ordeal, we started to see the horizon turn pink and the sun illuminated the skyline. We woke Castiel and Charlie and lead them back inside with promises of letting them fall back asleep when we got into our beds.

If I thought before that I was happy and peaceful, I felt a strange sense of content stillness after my exchange with Claire. She'd started to fill the hole that Sam had left in me, and I depended on her just as much as she did on me, if not more. I could barely imagine her growing up and leaving us, much less her going home- to her real home- for even a short period of time. I didn't think about it, because it was obvious she enjoyed living with us as much as we enjoyed her presence.

After getting him inside, Castiel was wide awake, and I was doubtful there would be any way for him to fall back asleep, even when I practically collapsed onto our bed.

My bed.

I buried my head into my pillow, wrapping my arms around it. I felt the pressure of him climbing onto the bed next to me and then the pressure of him sitting on my ass. He put his hands on my lower back. "Do you need a massage?" he asked. I turned my head to the side so I could breath.

"We all know how your last massage turned out," I muttered, closing my eyes.

"Yeah, and?" he asked and I chuckled.

"Well, don't get your hopes up," I sighed. "I think if you give me a massage I'll pass out right away," I confessed. His hands started to knead between my shoulders and I relaxed almost instantly.

"That's perfectly fine," he said contently. His hands worked over my back masterly, as if he'd done it a million times. And maybe he had. But I was putty in his hands until I closed my eyes.

I opened them what felt like only a moment later, but Cas wasn't there anymore, and the sun was shining through my curtains. I groaned and rolled onto my back, reaching for the alarm clock laying on my bedside table.

1:47pm

I was asleep for eight hours?

I sighed deeply and rubbed my face, putting the clock back down. Reluctantly, I forced myself out of bed and into the kitchen, which was completely empty. I shrugged, and headed for the fridge to make myself some sort of breakfast/lunch. I smiled fondly at the Sharpie on the fridge, reading "I'm headed to the rink with Castiel. Don't know where you guys are, but wish me luck!"

It seemed like months ago I'd written that note to Charlie and Claire just before my first date with Cas. I opened the fridge, the smile still spread wide across my face. I couldn't seem to wipe it as I pulled out almost an entire pie that hadn't been eaten.

It was apple, and I cut myself a thick slice, setting it onto a small plate. Without hesitation, I put the slice into the microwave for thirty seconds and grabbed a box of ice cream from the freezer, ready to get the full "freshly baked pie" experience. I took it from the microwave, sucking in a breath at the temperature of the plate. I scooped some of the ice cream right next to the pie and put it all away quickly, then took a spoon and headed straight for the couch to watch some post-christmas day TV.

Immediately when I turned it on I saw the face of Harry Potter, and sunk back into the couch, nerdy and content with the movie choice ABC decided to go with.

I'd only been eating a few minutes, savoring the taste when my only three friends stumbled through the door, giggling loudly and slamming giant sleds against the door in their feeble attempt to enter the house quietly. I set my nearly empty plate on the coffee table and stood up, observing their laughter and struggle to fit the snowboard in through the door. Charlie was the first to notice me standing with my hands on my hips, smirking at the mess that they were.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty, I see you decided to join us," she laughed, lugging her sled in, throwing it on the kitchen floor.

"Thanks for waking me up," I retorted, dropping my hands and moving to close the door behind Castiel. When I turned back around, I found him holding his board to his side, standing right in front of me. "Well, hel-" He interrupted me by grabbing a fistful of my shirt and pulling me towards him to kiss him. "Oh, okay," I mumbled against his mouth before kissing him back.

When he pulled away, he poked my chest. "That's for falling asleep instead of making out with me."

I pressed my lips together and shrugged before nodding. "Okay."

"We bought sleds!" Claire shouted, throwing her hands in the air. She was the one carrying two sleds, and I figured one was for me.

I looked to her face, surprised to see her eyes bloodshot and red rimmed until I remembered that she hadn't slept all night.

I repeated it to myself silently. She hadn't slept all night.

"Ooh, where are we planning on going sledding?" I asked, forcing a smile to my face and rubbing my hands together.

"There's a giant hill near Claire's house," Charlie explained.

"Oh, I think I went there with Sammy when we were little," I added. I didn't feel a pang in my chest when I mentioned his name or remembered shoving him down the hill on his circular blow up sled. I didn't want to burst into tears when I thought about how I'd laughed so hard at his scream that I'd fallen down the hill without a sled and broken my arm. I smiled, making eye contact with Cas.

"We also got waterproof fairy lights so we can put them on the boards and go tonight after dark," he added.

"That should be fun," I commented, rolling forward on my feet and stuffing my hands into my pockets. 

Somehow my eyes kept finding their way to Claire's and each time she would immediately look away.

"Claire, hey, can I talk to you for a second?" my mouth sped ahead of my thoughts, and I was already walking towards my room. Her footsteps followed mine softly and she closed the door behind her.

"What's u-" she began, but stopped short when I took her face in my hands to examine it. I turned it side to side and then looked directly into her eyes. They were glassy along with red.

"Claire, are you..." I trailed off and took a step back. "Are you high?" I asked reluctantly. I cursed myself for even asking it and I prayed that she was just sleep deprived. That I was just paranoid.

"What??" she asked, a little too delayed. "No, Dean, of course not!" if she wouldn't have hesitated so much before each word she'd be a good actress. I reached for her arm and the moment I made contact with her wrist, she ripped it away from my grasp. Now that I was thinking about it, I'd never seen Claire in a short sleeved shirt. It was always cold out since I met her, so I'd never thought anything of it, but now since she was being utterly suspicious, it seemed like a vibrant red flag. "What are you doing?" she asked, cradling her arm to her chest.

I grabbed it once again, more forcefully this time, and she winced, crying out slightly. I took ahold of her shirt sleeve and rushed to push it up, praying I was wrong.

She wouldn't.

She couldn't.

And yet, although I was going to look to her elbow for injection marks, I got distracted by the angry red lines littering her wrists. My eyebrows furrowed and I started to shake; not from anger, because I wasn't angry, but by blast of surprise, sadness and guilt.

"C-Claire," I whispered, staring at her left arm. There were endless white scars across her wrists, some cuts that were still healing going up her forearms, and brand new ones that went both ways. Tears blurred my vision and a strangled sound came from her mouth. I looked to her face to see her hand covering it. There were already tears pouring down her cheeks.

She'd tried to take her own life.

My head forced me to turn back to her arm for the original purpose I'd trapped her here. A choked noise escaped me when I not only saw small red dots and bruises in the crook of her elbow, but more right on the outer edge of her wrist. I felt my face start to crumble as I looked back to her eyes. "Claire,no," I shook my head and dropped her arm. She immediately pulled her sleeve back down and wiped at her face with her hands, looking up to meet my eyes.

I tried to pull myself together, but as more tears spilled from her bloodshot eyes, I pulled her towards me and held her in a tight hug. She was quick to wrap her arms around me too, and we stood there, a crying mess as she mumbled apologies over and over.

"Dean, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she sobbed against my chest.

I didn't know what to say as I continued to cry, kissing her hair. "It's okay, it'll be okay," is all I could muster, not sure if I was assuring her or myself. It wasn't okay, and I didn't know how it would turn out. I shifted so I was hugging her to me tighter, trying to seek comfort from the very girl who stripped me of it. Cas and Charlie burst through the door while I was still mumbling assurances to both of us and they froze, seeping my wet face. "It'll be okay," I whispered, my voice cracking.


	21. 21

We walked through the foyer of the high building Cas insisted we go to. Claire planted her feet into the floor and wouldn't budge.

"Claire, stop," I shook my head, pulling her arm.

"You're hurting me!" she scolded, tugging back. "Look, I can clean up on my own, we don't need to go to some rehab center, okay? Come one, please." she begged, tears still streaming down her face.

"I will drag you in there kicking and screaming if I have to," I said quietly.

The whole place smelled like lavender air freshener. It was highly unpleasant, along with the striking bareness of the walls and, well, everything else in the lobby. I couldn't imagine someone as warm, sweet and cuddly as Castiel working in such a cold, hard place.

Although that description was hardly accurate, because the building was so warm that the minute we stepped in from the freezing weather outside, I felt thawed. Probably so people could sweat out their addictions.

"Come on, Dean, please don't," she pleaded, pulling my arm to get me to leave, back to the car. Back to a sobbing, shaking Charlie in the back seat.

I sighed, making the split decision to put an arm around her waist and pick her up so her back was against my chest. "I will not make the same mistake with you that I did with Sammy," I shook my head. "I won't."

"I'm not Sammy," she said, starting to pant and scratch at my arm. "Dean, please, no," her voice grew higher and higher. "No, no, Dean, don't make me," she squirmed to get out of my grasp and I just let out a deep breath, barely affected. "Dean-"

"Claire," Cas said upon seeing us, his 'doctor' smile wavering only slightly seeing the state she was in.

"Dean, please, no!"

"She's a bit of a kicker," I explained. Cas set his hand on her arm and she stopped, looking him in the eye, continuing to breath heavily.

"Claire," he said quieter, frowning now. He shook his head. "Don't do this," he whispered.

Although the whole layout of the ground floor looked tranquil and peaceful, there were faint noises of sobs, screams, some pounding. Claire seemed like the least problematic of the other patients here.

"Don't make me do this, Castiel," she said back, grabbing his hand. In his left was a clipboard and a pen hanging off of it on a piece of yarn.

It was weird to see him in his work environment, especially in his usual suit, minus the overcoat. "Claire," he said one more time, giving her a firm look. I loosened my grip around her middle so her feet were touching the floor. "You can do this okay?" he nodded. "You're only here a few days and Dean and Charlie can visit every single day," he assured. "And I'll be here 24/7 in case you need me."

Her whole body softened, and I was nervous for a moment that she might pass out, but she didn't, she stood there, stable. "I'm scared," she whispered.

His hand moved to her hair, to tuck it behind her hair. "I know. It'll be okay, I promise," he assured. She stepped forward hesitantly into his arms, and I stood frozen for a moment. I'd never seen either of them act like this, and it was strange to see Claire so soft and vulnerable and see Cas act so fatherly. It was kinda hot.

I cleared my throat.

"Okay, Dean," he looked up. "I can take it from here okay? I love-" he paused, looking flustered and surprised for a moment, especially when Claire's head snapped back to look at him.

"What?" she and I said at the same time.

Was he gonna say...?

"I love Claire. And I'll do everything I can to help her," he corrected himself, saving his sentence only by a second.

"Uh-huh," she said, and I hugged her before I could say anything.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" I promised. She nodded, wiping at the stray tears on her cheeks. "I love you, alright?"

"I love you, too," she sniffled, hugging me tightly one more time. After this, I looked up at Cas and he nodded reassuringly, urging me to leave.

We'd already taken care of all the paper work.

I looked back on my way out the door to see his arm around Claire's shoulders as he lead her up a long, steep staircase.

There wasn't any way to describe how I was feeling when I took the slow, long walk back to my car. Maybe a little relieved? Scared of how she would be when I visited her next? There was a long list of emotions running through me, but I at least knew she was safe in Cas's hands.

I opened the door, immediately greeted by Charlie's sniffling. "How- how did it go?" she asked, looking up at me with her big watery eyes.

I sighed and slid into my seat, laying my forehead against the steering wheel for a few seconds. "It was hard for her," I admitted. "But she did it."

"I'm p-proud of her," Charlie stumbled over her words and lifted her hands to the heating vents to warm herself. I clicked into my seatbelt and took a deep breath.

"Me too," I agreed, then started the endless drive home.

Years later, I stumbled upon a journal of Claire's from while she was in rehab. It was decorated with black duct tape, but there was one small silver heart sticker in the bottom left corner.

_12-27-15_

_This is fucking stupid. I don't want to be here, and they say they won't read this but I know the doctors will. I know Cas will. Hey, Cas, by the way. I guess I'll write anyways, though, considering the fact that one of the men wouldn't write and stabbed one of the nurses in the hand with his pen. They gave us all Crayons, and I kind of want to go easy on them. So today was my first day in rehab. It's only been like 13 hours since I last shot up, so I'm not exactly going through terrible withdrawals yet. I'm not exactly looking forward to them, but I'd rather they be over sooner than later. All I've done so far today is get my clothes taken from me. I had to change into light blue scrubs, and my hair has to be pulled back into a pony tail. It's not that bad so far, I guess. The food was better than I thought, and a few people have tried to be friends with me, but I blew them off. I'm not in here to be friends with anyone. I'm in here because of Dean and Dean only. I feel like shit for lying to him, and for him finding out the way he did. And honestly, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve to have someone he cares about bring back memories of Sam. Especially memories like him being addicted to heroin. I'm sorry for it, really I am. And that's why I'm here, in this shit hole. I mean, I guess the place isn't as bad as I was expecting. I have my own cell- oh sorry "room". But I'm apparently not allowed to shower without fucking supervision, because, apparently, I'm a toddler who needs to be watched while I clean my body. They claim it's because during withdrawals I could pass out or have seizures or some shit, but I'm sure it's so the nurses can get their freak on. They warned me about the symptoms of withdrawals I would be going through. I had to sit in a support group circle thing and have a talk with all the other recovering addicts. They were all older than me, and some of them looked at me like they felt worse for me being in here than themselves. Anyways, the symptoms were things you would expect: cold sweats, loss of appetite, nausea, vomiting, depression, anxiety, the like. I wanted to be worried about it, but like I said before I just wanted it to be over. Has it been fifteen minutes already? Ha looks like I'm done for today thank god_

_Claire_

_12-28-15_

_I was having withdrawals today, and the symptoms they'd warned me about were nothing like they'd described. They were much worse. I had laid down because I was feeling drowsy and woke up soaking wet. I couldn't breathe, and I was shivering really hard. I, stupidly, hit the panic button to call my assigned 24 hour nurse and she came to my rescue quickly. It was like she already knew what was happening because she brought extra blankets to pile high on top of me and a damp washcloth to press against my forehead. She didn't do shit about my breathing, though, only telling me that I had to focus my energy on my breath. Eventually I guess it worked, but I was till freezing, shaking and sweating all at once. That wasn't the worst part, though, hell no, because like an hour after that I had to sprint to the bathroom in my room to puke my brains out and dry heave for like twenty minutes. I hadn't eaten much from that whole loss of appetite thing, so basically I just sat there with my stomach closing against itself. In the middle of my vigorous withdrawals, I felt the strongest compulsion I ever had to cut. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know all the fucking nurses and doctors will be reading this and judging me but up yours. Anyways, I looked for anything sharp, and ended up picking at a piece of the concrete floor that had been broken loose. I'd only made one cut on my arm and felt more release than I had the whole time I'd been here before the nurse came back in, freaking out and yelling at me. Fucking bitch took me to the therapist right away, but it wasn't Cas. Of course it wasn't Cas. That would have been too easy. No it was some old ass lady named Vanessa who in reality was probably only like forty, but she was still old. She tried to talk through my feelings with me, and I wouldn't talk to her because I knew she would just scribble it into her notepad for later. I wasn't going to be some sort of animal that she studied until she had enough information to write a summary on my species. I've been working on my metaphors, too while I've been in here. Anyways, I asked about Castiel and why I wasn't his patient. She told me that apparently he got scolded for thinking he could conduct my therapy sessions because of his "close involvement" with me. I hated the way they phrased it because it sounded like we were together, when in reality he was basically just screwing my older brother. Speaking of Dean, he and Charlie came to visit today. I was only allowed to see them for half an hour, and it was cut short anyways because I had to throw up, but it was nice to see them. Charlie was holding back tears the whole time, I could tell, and I felt terrible. Dean was holding it together really well, though, but when he asked about Cas and how it was going with him, his eye started twitching when I explained that I wasn't allowed to work with him. He kept calm, more for my sake than anyone else's I think. But they were really nice, telling me the ugly uniform looked good on me and commenting on how I didn't have my usual braids in my hair. They stopped joking around though when I told them I wasn't allowed to have my hair any way but up in case I tried to strangle myself. Oh right, I forgot to mention yesterday that they decided to keep me an extra day so they could monitor my medication intake after they found out I was "suicidal". They didn't leave too long ago and now here I am writing in this stupid ass notebook. I say that, but oh look I've taken up like six pages in two days. I guess that's where I'll leave because there are only like five minutes left of writing._

_Claire 8===D_


	22. 22

_12-31-15_

_It's New Year's Eve and all day today I kept running into Castiel, and every time I would wink at him and harass him about taking a picture when he and Dean kissed at midnight. As the withdrawal symptoms grow shorter, my days in rehab grow longer. It's only been a day since I last wrote and I feel like It's been at least a week. Not even that much has happened between then and now. I had my usual counseling session in which I was scolded for my little outburst yesterday and Vanessa went to such lengths as to assign me a new counselor, named Chandler. I couldn't take him seriously because he had a really REALLY close resemblance to Chandler from Friends. He eventually made me leave early, too, because I kept mumbling "Happy Thanksgiving" to him in reference to the show, and in times of silence I sang 'I'm gonna swing from the Chandler' and he got sick of it, only keeping me to gather the necessary answers to his questions and check up on me. I was starting to impress myself with my ability to manipulate the people in this building; I made friends with most of the nurses on my floor, including my 24 hour nurse, who always snuck cards in to play with me. I learned from one of the nurses who did rounds with David, too, that we had the same discharge date, even though he'd been here longer than me. The lunch ladies (and men) always wink at me whenever I pass them my tray. I quickly learned that I was the youngest patient to be admitted to the rehab center for a heroin addiction. I guess heroin isn't too popular among teens my age. That or they were just better at hiding it than I was. Either way, I got a lot of special treatment for being so young. My body itches deep inside my rib cage and under my skin. No matter how hard I scratch my skin, it keeps itching for a fix. I've found that clenching my fists really hard helps me to take control of my mind for a moment. Today David was missing during breakfast, and when I came downstairs for our free time in the community room, he was sat with his head resting on the keys of the piano. I approached him and tickled the back of his neck to get his attention. When he looked up at me his eyes were red and his face was puffy. I guess his father had come to visit him and basically disowned him. He said that he normally wouldn't care since his dad was such a dick wad, but he blamed him for his little brother and sister acting out. He said that since his parents worked so much, it was his responsibility to raise them and he failed. I rubbed his back while he took deep breaths and apologized over and over for crying and ruining our time together. I obviously told him to shut up about it and just tried to comfort him. He leaned over and dropped his head in my lap, turning so he was laying on his back on the rest of the piano bench. "Play for me?" he asked again, the exact same goofy smile as he had yesterday when he'd asked. Since it was still around Christmas time, I played Canon in D for him, surprised at how smoothly my fingers ran over the keys. It was like I'd been practicing over and over, when in reality it's been weeks since I've played the piano. While I played he reached up and touched my face with his hand and when I glanced down he was smiling up at me widely. Whenever he smiled, his eyes lit up, taking the sadness out of them. I couldn't help but smile back and keep played as his thumb stroked my cheek and pulled my pony tail over my shoulder to play with it and twirl it in his fingers. I looked around the room quickly while I was playing and noticed some people swaying with the music, an old man twirling around across the room, one of the young male guards dancing with an old woman I learned had bipolar disorder. She was incredibly sweet, and giggled when he twirled her. I looked back to the keys, a huge smile across my face. I was so happy that I was able to make these people happy. I couldn't help but feel proud of myself for making all these people, these people associated with sadness and sickness and drugs smile and dance and laugh. It was just then that I realized this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. I want to pursue a career in music; I want to make people smile and dance and laugh. I played the final chord and looked back up; the old woman and the guard bowed and curtsied to one another and the old man in the corner looked up at me and smiled toothily, giving me thumbs up. I giggled, waving my thanks and looked back to David. I ran a hand through his mop of curls and he surprised me by leaning up and kissing me quickly. I blinked in surprise and when I looked back down at him I laughed bending down to kiss him again. I felt bubbly when I kissed him, as if I was on a rollercoaster. I remembered sadly that I could only kiss him for a moment before the guards would catch us and yell or put us in solitary confinement, and we couldn't risk that. So when I pulled away he just grinned from ear to ear and kept playing with my hair. The old man suddenly then shouted, "Encore!" and everyone in the room started chanting. I laughed and gave in to their wishes, playing another song from a past recital called "Invention Number 4". It had a lot of finger work and trills and grace notes, so I had to concentrate more, but when I did finally sneak a glance up I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I had to blink tears away. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE had a partner and they were all dancing around, some waltzing off beat, others just swaying. But there were patients dancing with each other, with guards, with the kitchen staff, then there was David, laying in my lap. I was perfectly content and I realized... I could like it here._

_Claire_

_1-1-16_

_Wow that date was weird to write. HAPPY NEW YEAR!! Wow, spending New Year's in this hellhole is exactly how I imagined it. I'm kidding it's not that bad. Charlie and Dean visited me last night, right before the building closed visitations. They brought chocolate that I was only able to devour under guard supervision while they were still sitting in front of me. They updated me on all the bunker gossip, even telling me about how Alex came to see me because he "missed me" which was code for "Cas" as I found out further, and was surprised to hear that I was in rehab even though my parents knew. All three of them still neglected to come visit, but hey, that's life. I guess he even went so far as to act like he didn't know I even did drugs when he knew for a fact that I did. They left with promises that Charlie would sneak a picture of Dean and Cas kissing at midnight so I could experience their cuteness even when I wasn't there. I guess their relationship was going really well, and they hadn't been having huge fights as much, unless they were about me and Cas breaking policy rules to go check on me. Since it was a major holiday today, we had limited staff, meaning counseling was absent for some people, including me, thankfully. That just meant that after breakfast I got five hours in the community room with David. David. Around 11:57pm last night, while I lay awake watching the clock in my room count down to midnight, there was a soft knock at my door. When I opened it warily, David was in front of me with a cupcake he had no doubt stolen from the kitchen held in front of his face. Apparently he had taken it to wish me a happy New Year, letting himself into my room and checking the clock. Only a minute had passed. He jumped up and down, "We still have time!" he whispered, taking my hands in his. My entire chest grew warm. He had come so we could spend new year's together. "David, what if you get into trouble for being out of your room?" I scolded, swatting his shoulder. He only rolled his eyes and shook his head and glanced up at the clock again. I smiled despite myself, because he was so incredibly sweet. He sat down on the bed and muttered, "Can two minutes just pass, the suspense is killing me!" I chuckled, sitting next to him and letting him take my hand in his. We both stared at the clock while the small hand moved to 11:59. He gasped and shifted on the bed so he was looking into my eyes. "Claire, I've only known you a few days, but that doesn't mean anything to me because time is just an illusion-" I rolled my eyes and laughed. "-but you're the most amazing person I've ever met, and I'm so glad to have bumped into you." I opened my mouth to say something back, but he gasped and looked up above my head behind me. "Ten, nine, eight, count with me," he urged. "Six, five, four, three, two," we met in the middle, both of us eager to actually be able to kiss without a time limit or a worry that guards would see us. It was slow and gentle and sweet and I wouldn't have had it any other way. When David pulled away he rested his forehead on mine with a giant smile on his face and whispered "Happy New Year, Claire." He stayed in my room for most of the rest of the night, cuddling, kissing, laughing quietly. It was perfect until 6:45, when he kissed me goodbye to walk back to his room for morning inspection. When he shut the door behind him, I jumped on my bed and squealed into the pillows. Anyways, back to lunch. We played poker with a few of the older patients, using stickers as chips. David folded with only one sticker left, and I was already out, so he gave me the little silver heart sticker, which I have taken the liberty of putting on the cover of this stupid notebook. I played piano again, only for a little while though, because then one of the younger patients- a little girl with schizophrenia- asked if she could play, and of course I said yes, sliding off the chair to let her sit. This time when she flawlessly played Fur Elise, I was able to dance with David, although it was more like gentle swaying. Over his shoulder I saw Castiel in the same position he was in the other day; he was leaning against the wall in the hallway by the community room, but this time there was a sweet smile on his face, and his hand was on his chest as he watched us. I put my face into David's neck to hide my smile. It was a good day._

_Claire :) <3_

_***_

Claire was coming home today. Well, bunker-home, but it was still home. Charlie and I were waiting in suspense for the door to open and for her and Cas to walk in together. There was no doubt in my mind that Charlie would immediately tackle her best friend, and I would have to wait impatiently for my turn to hug her.

So there I was, sat in permanent suspense, wanting updates on her life, on this David figure Cas had mentioned, about how she was doing in general. I'd missed her more than I thought possible. There was a different type of yearning for someone's presence when you knew they were alive and well as apposed to missing someone who never had any chance of return, and I couldn't identify which was worse. It didn't matter though, because any moment now I would see Claire again in my own home, in our home, and our little family would be together again.

I glanced over at Charlie, who was practically bouncing up and down on her chair she was so anxious, and when we heard the door knob being jingled, we both jumped to our feet. Right when Claire came into our lines of sight, we both dropped all sense we had and slammed smack into her and the same time, so the three of us were pressed against each other awkwardly. She smelled different, like the lavender Febreeze, and it was a strange scent to associate her with as opposed to the usual vanilla cotton candy.

When we finally pulled back, she was grinning from ear to ear and I looked up behind her not only to see Castiel, but a brand new face of a boy not much older than Claire. Was this the infamous David?

Despite my wishes, I felt a strong surge of that overprotective big-brother gene inside of me as I forced myself to smile. Cas walked past me holding a bag in each hand, whispering, "Be nice," in my ear when he passed. I scoffed and looked back to the kid. Charlie was already hugging him, and Claire laughed at his surprised face when he hugged her back. After, I put up my hand up for him to shake, and he smiled, a few inches taller than me, and I hate to say it, but almost more buff than me, although slimmer. Probably because of the drugs. I tried to shake the thought from my head, because I knew better than to judge people based on their pasts. Hell, basically my little sister met him in rehab, so... No it didn't sound better like that.

"Dean," Claire stood next to him, closing the front door behind them when I dropped my hand. "This is David."


	23. 23

David was a mess.

Not as a human being, because in that sense he was actually a really nice guy, but his childhood was a mess. Apparently he and Claire had the same release date and he planned on going home but his parents disowned him and told him he wasn't welcome home anymore, so obviously she and Cas invited him to stay with us.

I knew I had no right to judge him for it, but I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy with the fact that he and Claire met in rehab. It was just a nagging feeling in the back of my head that I couldn't quite shake; obviously it was unfair of me to see him as unstable for being in rehab when Claire was there for the same reason, but I just wanted to protect her. I wanted no chance of her being hurt or surprised when he was different than he was in rehab.

When Cas had mentioned David to me in passing, though, this nagging was far worse. He said Claire finally made a friend in the hospital, and that they seemed really close and I was of course happy for her, but when he proceeded to tell me this friend was a gorgeous nineteen year old addicted to opiates I happened to get a little overprotective. It's not that I didn't think he could recover from a drug addiction, it was more that I wanted someone stable for Claire. She had such a wreck of a life that she needed someone constant, and it didn't seem exactly right that she should be with someone else as unstable as her.

Speaking of Claire's atrocity of a life, Charlie and I wanted to plan a welcome home party for her- which was shot down by Cas immediately and replaced with a night in. Something about wanting her to be comfortable and able to relax after we'd shipped her off to a mental institution. I sighed. She wasn't acting that different, but there was definitely a change in her. It was slight, but I noticed; we all noticed. She blinked more. You wouldn't have realized if you weren't so close to her but she blinked a lot. She had a few nervous ticks. Her voice was more sullen. But she was the same Claire. The same sweet, sarcastic broken Claire.

We talked to her parents about how we'd admitted her into the rehab facility, and they cared, surprisingly. But unsurprisingly the care wasn't for their daughter, it was for themselves. For Alex. They did the casual opiate and shoot up once in a while, too, apparently and drank much too much and begged us not to admit them. Honestly I don't know what we ended up saying, but it was something along the lines of we don't care enough to do that so don't worry your pretentious little heads. The only thing that bothered them about Claire being in the hospital was how much it was going to cost them. They were loaded, obviously, but they still questioned themselves when they realized we stole their health insurance card. Oh well.

We were gathered around the table, sipping our coffees and hot chocolates, David sipping his tea. I wanted to know more about him, especially since the way Claire was gazing at him was how I pictured myself looking when I looked at Castiel. Starstruck, in awe. It was a different thing to watch it than to experience it, and as Cas found my hand under the table, I could tell he noticed it, too.

"So, David," Charlie began. I think she was almost more protective over Claire than I was, and had been grilling the poor kid all night. "What do you want to do when you're older? You wanna go to college?"

He shifted uncomfortably, and I noticed Claire's arm shift to rest her hand on his under the table. I turned to make eye contact with Cas, knowing that he saw it, too. He smirked.

"Well..." he started. "I've always wanted to be a forensic pathologist," she looked at him blankly. "Like, uhm... a medical examiner? Someone who performs autopsies, and things like that," he shrugged. "I think that's really interesting."

"Why? Do you have a fetish?" she asked. I gasped and smacked her in the arm. "What?"

"Oh... uh, no," he laughed. "No, only an interest."

"See?" she chuckled. "He knows I'm only joking."

He was admittedly, incredibly charming, and made me genuinely laugh multiple times. I guess when Charlie could no longer contain her laughter, she accepted him as an addition to our little household. She suggested that we all play Cards Against Humanity and Claire interrupted.

"Actually..." she sighed. "I think I want to sleep in a real bed early tonight. You know, not a cardboard inch thick mattress," she joked, nudging David with her shoulder. "So, we're probably gonna take our leave."

They started to stand together and spontaneously, Charlie said, "Woah, I hope you don't think you're sleeping together." just as I said, "Oh, honey, you're damned if you thought you were gonna sleep together."

"Are you kidding me?" she scoffed. "We aren't gonna do anything," she assured, and he dug his hands into his pockets awkwardly, rocking back on his heels.

"You're sixteen!" I said, starting to stand. Cas put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down, shaking his head barely.

"And? You're not my parents!" she just had to push that into my face.

"Claire," David touched her shoulder. "Really, they're right it's okay. Do you guys have somewhere I could inhabit for the night," he joked, trying to lighten the mood I could tell.

"Thank you, David," I sighed in relief, but I should have known she wouldn't let up that easily.

"You and Cas sleep together every time he's over!"

Well.

"She has a point," Cas whispered, shrugging. "Just let her, Dean, she's right it's not like they're gonna do anything."

"I-"

"Dean," she interrupted, pouting.

I guess he was right. I basically owed this to her. She'd had a hard week in a hospital and if he was her one source of comfort, I had to give this to her. I sighed. "You know what," I breathed, waving my hand. "Fine."

She gasped, jumping up and down. She hugged around my neck and kissed my cheek, "Thank you!" she giggled, then grabbed David's hand and skipped down the hallway, dragging him along to trip behind her.

I looked at Cas and he smiled, nodding to assure me I'd done the right thing just before I got screeched at.

"DEAN WHAT THE FUCK SHE'S SIXTEEN!" Charlie shouted right in my ear.

"Woah," I put up a hand. "Calm down, Charlie, don't tell me you didn't literally have sex with your girlfriends when your mom thought you were just friends. You can't say anything about this."

She huffed and crossed her arms, but didn't comment. That's what I thought.

"You know what, we're probably gonna hit the hay, too," Cas said warily, standing and helping me up.

"What?" she gasped, her eyes going wide. "You guys are gonna leave me, too?"

Guilt invaded me and I pressed my lips together.

"Maybe you could-" I began.

"No, it's fine," she sighed dramatically. "I guess I'll just go to a strip club," she shook her head. "You guys are gonna be the death of me," she grabbed her coat without another word and left.

"Do you think she's really going to a-"

"Definitely," I interrupted him, then turned to pull him back to my room. Immediately upon entering I jumped forward and flopped down on the bed. He sat next to me, making the mattress dip slightly.

Over the week that Claire was gone, a lot had happened between Cas and I, and honestly there wasn't much fighting. He spent the night most nights, telling me what little he could about Charlie at the hospital.

"Do you really want to go to sleep?" he asked laying down next to me so his head was propped up in his hand and his eyes were level with mine.

"No," I admitted. "I think you know what I want to do," I laughed and wiggled my eyebrows. He pushed my shoulder, rolling his eyes, but I used my leverage to swing back and slam my mouth onto his, apologizing when our teeth clinked at the force. He just giggled and brought his free hand to my jaw, ghosting his fingers over it and then cupping it to pull my face into his. His tongue parted my lips to take over and deepen the kiss. I put an arm around his waist and pulled him onto my lap so I was laying on my back.

I let my hands slide down his back to his ass, humming in satisfaction at his little gasp, deciding to take the liberty of kissing down his neck, then pulling back to pull his shirt off of him and flip us so I could look at him underneath me. I kissed down his stomach and back up, his hands in my hair, tugging at the roots. I licked under his ear, just under his jaw, and he arched his back so his hips were pressed against mine harder. When I moved back to his mouth, he was fast to take control and start kissing me faster, letting his teeth tug at my bottom lip. In a mixture of bravery and need I rolled my hips down onto his and he groaned into my mouth. Whenever he made noises while we kissed, I couldn't help but keep kissing him because they were so incredibly hot to me.

We were interrupted just then by a pound on the wall, and Claire shouting, "WE CAN HEAR YOU GUYS!"

I laughed, kissing him again and stopping. "Every time," I sighed. He nodded, rubbing his hands down his face. I rolled off him and he let out a low whine, "I'm gonna take a shower."

"I wanted to take one," he argued, looking up at me.

"We could conserve water," I suggested, winking at him. For a second I saw that he considered it, but he ended up shaking his head, instead just standing and walking towards me until my back hit the wall leading to the bathroom. He stood on his toes to kiss me again, starting just as heated as we'd ended things on the bed. He hooked his fingers into the waistband on my pajama pants and I gasped, pulling him closer to me with one hand on his lower back and another on his waist, tilting his head back to get a better angle at his mouth.

"Dean," he breathed, sliding one hand around to squeeze my ass before giving me one more kiss and stepping back. "Okay, you can go," he said heavily.


	24. chapter 24

The days following Claire and David's arrivals home were exciting and nerve wracking all at the same time. They were both happy most of the time, but there was something slightly off about Claire still. I'd hoped it would fade away as she got used to being home, but if anything it just got worse. She still had doctor mandated therapy sessions, but this time she was allowed to just see Cas once a week instead of the other therapists. It was hard seeing them go into her room together and not being able to hear a single thing about it ever.

David had therapy sessions with Castiel, too, always at the bunker so they never had to leave the comfort of their own home. After every appointment, David always seemed the smallest bit happier, as if there wasn't as much weight on his shoulders, and Cas seemed the opposite. Ever since he started talking to them he was more weighed down, unable to express his thoughts and feelings due to his oath of confidentiality. It bothered me as well, seeing as there was usually nothing I could do to help him, barely able to even take his mind off of it.

Claire's relationship with David was both endearing to watch and a little unnerving. He was a nice guy, one of the most charming people I'd ever met; he was funny, sweet and never looked at Claire with anything short of admiration. But I was worried for them both. I was worried that instead of keeping each other sober and clean that they would tear each other down to the point that made them unable to contain themselves from shooting up or taking opiates. That part was terrifying, too, because if they messed around with both opiates and heroin at the same time, the consequences could be worse than I'd ever imagined. So every day I would hope for them to keep each other happy and safe, never bringing an ounce of harm on the other.

At that moment, I didn't have anything to worry about because they seemed like they were walking on air they were so happy with their relationship. Of course, being the overprotective brother that I am, there was always a terrifying, blooming cloud of thought looming over my head, threatening to spill at any moment and behind it there were two words I wouldn't dare to utter: statutory and pregnant.

I knew, obviously, that I didn't have too much to worry about with David being over eighteen and Claire being under age, but that didn't stop me from doing it. It was almost impossible when Charlie was constantly poking at me, asking me questions about if I've ever caught them messing around in Claire's room or if I heard them late at night. I blew her off every time because I never had heard anything, and now I was always petrified that I would. They were good, I had to admit, about not displaying too much physical affection in front of the other three of us, but every once in a while they would slip up and we would catch them kissing quickly or cuddling or holding hands. It wasn't anything harmful, that it seemed like at least, so I figured we'd let it run its course, and if David decided to stick around then we'd welcome him.

I wasn't the type of person who would drag his ass to court if I found out they were having sex, though, and after that first night when I let them sleep in the same room together, it was obvious Claire understood that. I appreciated her, though, because I think she made an effort to keep their private, more intimate moments actually private. I honestly had no clue whether or not they were sleeping together for real yet, but I respected her decision and trusted her if they were.

What I didn't trust, though, was "protection" and as that second word poked and prodded at the cloud above me to start a hailstorm, I had to take deep breaths to keep it from pouring down. Pregnancy.

It was my one of my biggest fears, as of now, that they would slip up and Claire would wind up pregnant. We had no means of her having a baby, and even then it would be practically impossible to convince doctors or just people in general that David was under eighteen. It would look even worse, though, because I would probably end up going to appointments with her and the most prominent thought in everyone's mind would be that I was the father. If it happened, if she ended up pregnant I couldn't even fathom what we'd do. Of course, of course, we would respect her and not think any differently of her, but her parents would have no choice but to be involved. And where her parents go, Alex goes.

All the paranoia swirling in my head was causing it to ache, and I decided to just keep those thoughts buried deep down and if they ever became a reality, well I'd cross that bridge when I got to it. As of that moment, though, I had to be there to support the couple, whether I was scared for them or not. They were coming a long way, and although relapse threatened us most days, I trusted them to stay clean.

"Hey, Dean, have you seen that sweatshirt of mine that says Savage on the back?" Claire shouted from her room.

I was sitting in the kitchen, my head resting in my hand and my thoughts consuming reality. "Uhm, weren't you wearing that yesterday!?" I called back.

"Yeah, but I can't find it anywhere!" she groaned and there was a shuffling noise while I assumed she was throwing clothes around.

"I'm gonna give you some space," David's passive, soft voice said from a distance. When he came into my line of sight, his eyes were wide and he was shaking his head.

"Women, huh?" I asked. He laughed and nodded, pulling out the chair right across from me and dropping into it. "I wouldn't know," I shrugged, joining him in laughter.

"She's having a rough day," he admitted, running a hand through his curly hair. "I think she's really craving to shoot up."

I looked down at the table, tracing the swirls in the wood with my fingers. "I don't..." I began, not quite sure where I was planning on taking that sentence.

"I'm sure she won't," he assured me. "But... I don't know I'm nervous. She's still young."

When I looked back up at him, he looked genuinely worried about her. I wanted to chastise him for implying that he wasn't young and still had his whole life ahead of him, but he looked so concerned for her that I couldn't bring myself to make the situation humorous.

"She's a tough girl," I sighed, looking back up to meet his gaze. "I'm sure she'll pull through it."

There was a loud bang followed by an aggravated scream coming from Claire's room and we both twitched, prepared to go help her if she called for us. She remained silent aside from some movement.

"I'm sure she will," he nodded, agreeing with me. He yawned, then sighed. I'd noticed that David yawned a lot, even when he was nowhere near tired. When I asked Cas he said it was a symptom of withdrawal and I had nodded in understanding. "I'm sure she will," he said a little quieter. Then he perked up a bit. "Anyways, how are things with you and Castiel?"

I laughed at his interest in my love life when his own was so enthralling. "They're good," I assured. "Really good."

"That's great," he smiled. "I'm glad, you guys are really good together."

"Well, shucks," I laughed. "Thanks, David."

He only nodded in return before asking, "Actually, have you seen Charlie lately? I haven't seen her."

It was only 11:30am, Charlie could have still been sleeping, but I didn't exactly recall her coming home at all last night. "Where did she go last night?" I answered his question with a question and he shrugged. "I don't know either."

"Actually, she mentioned something about going to a meet and greet... she invited Claire and I," he looked away. "I felt really bad saying no."

I was now beginning to worry about Charlie, too. I had Cas, whom I spent an abundance of time with and Claire now had David and they were practically attached at the hip. It used to be the four of us, always, me, Charlie, Claire and Castiel, but now that David was thrown into the mix, our whole balance was thrown off. Charlie strayed off more because we were always together. I sensed that I should call her, make sure everything was alright, so I pressed my lips together and told David where I was going. He nodded politely, tapping some unknown beat onto the table with his fingers. I stood and slipped out the door so I was standing just on the porch, the sun shining unnaturally bright and the fresh snow glistening on the sidewalk.

The line rang until the absolute last second before she decided to pick up, and even then she was quiet and groggy. "Hello?" she answered in a voice similar to a chain smokers.

"Hey, Charlie it's Dean, where are you?" I asked. There was a shifting noise, then a gasp as I assumed she got out of whatever bed she was in.

Her voice lowered even more, "I don't know," she chuckled a little at the end. "I'm getting a glass of water, though."

"What do you mean you don't know?" I asked, hearing the faucet run as she filled a cup.

"I mean, I went home with someone last night and I just don't know," she said. I could almost visualize her shrugging.

"David said you went to a meet and greet last night?" I asked.

She cleared her throat. "Yeah, I went to a convention," she laughed, then stopped short. "Holy shit!" she whisper shouted. Her gasp filled the line of the phone followed by surprised chuckling. "Oh my god."

"What? What's going on?" I asked, growing concerned. I shivered involuntarily and pulled my sleeves farther down my wrists.

"Dean, I slept with Billie fucking Piper last night," she whispered. "Oh my god, what?! I didn't even know she wasn't straight!"

"Who?"

"Billie Piper, she was in Doctor Who, oh my fucking god," she giggled. "I can't believe this is happening right now."

"How did that happen?" I asked.

She was quiet for a minute, reminiscing, I figured. It wasn't unusual for Charlie to wake up in a stranger's home. She had a commitment problem, but was more than willing to have sex with other people who wanted no-strings-attached sex.

"Oh, god it's all coming back to me, now," she giggled. "I was at the convention, right? And I met her and David Tennant at a panel. Of course, I joked about having a threeway with them, and David was all 'I'm in a committed relationship, but you two go right ahead' and then oh! They invited me to like an after party club kinda thing, I don't remember why," she laughed. "But we all got fucking hammered and I went home to her hotel with her. Wow, what a night."

I remained silent.

This would only ever happen to Charlie. She had good luck in areas of sex and celebrities, the opposite of the rest of us.

"Only you," I sighed. "Well, take a picture- when she wakes up." Charlie has gone home with famous people before, so although this was a big deal to her, it wasn't that surprising anymore. She'd taken pictures with them while they were asleep before, so I figured it was only safe to clarify what she should do.

"Ugh, fine, I guess I'll wai-"

"Good morning," the other girl's voice was muffled by Charlie's phone. She slept with a British girl?

Before I could continue to grill her on details, she hung up. I couldn't blame her.

_1-16-16_

_I honestly can't believe I'm still writing in this thing. It's pretty stupid, but when I'm old and crumbly I wanna be able to look back on myself and smile at the good times I had. Yeah yeah cute, whatever. Today was cold and there were chances of a blizzard. David and I decided that if it ended up snowing really heavily, we'd go sledding. The thought of sledding made me a mixture of sad and angry. Last time when I'd planned on going sledding with Charlie, Dean and Cas, they sent me away to some mental hospital. I knew I had to let that go some day soon, because I brought it upon myself, but I couldn't bring myself to up and forget it ever happened. So I pretended it didn't bother me that much. The stupid day started out annoying, and I couldn't find my favorite sweatshirt. I was having that itching feeling again, under my skin. Not only that, though, but my biceps and calves were cramping all day, too, despite the fact that I did little to no physical activity. Obviously, they were withdrawal symptoms, but I didn't want to admit it to myself. I want want to have the upperhand with this "addiction" thing. I want to be able to come to it and go as I please. I like to think I have enough self-control to hand only shooting up once every few months, or only shooting up recreationally. I hadn't since the day they saw me off to rehab, but that didn't make it any less hard to fantasize about sliding a needle into my wrist and injecting myself with fiery goodness. Ugh, I sound ridiculous. I want to stay clean, really, I do. But more than anything, even more than staying clean, I wanted these symptoms to stop. It seemed so simple, that if I just shot up, something I was so incredibly familiar with, it would all go away. But it wasn't fair to David, it was definitely not fair Dean and it wasn't fair to me. The sweatshirt ended up being under a blanket on my bed and it pissed me off that I couldn't find it in that obvious spot so much that I had let out a war call and punched the wall. It was a stupid, stupid decision because all the walls in my bedroom were made of brick, but hey, you do stupid things when you're frustrated. That's my excuse at least. Honestly, I have no plans of going through with shooting up, but a girl can dream, can't she? I always say this stuff to myself, I always feel the need to pacify and soothe everyone else's worries about things that I could potentially do to harm myself, even to pacify my own worries, but that didn't stop me from thinking I was lying. It didn't stop me from not trusting myself or my body. I wanted it so bad that at times, I was barely able to contain myself from running out of the bunker and finding Gabriel to make a purchase. I had to convince myself almost every night now, that when David had his arms around me, it was him begging me not to do it. David had more self control than I did. Or if he was struggling, he in no way showed it. I think part of that might have been to save me the extra stress of him falling back into his Oxycontin addiction, but either way it concerned me how easy going he was compared to me. It seemed like he didn't even have to go to rehab, he could have just convinced himself to stop taking it and he would have. Maybe rehab was just another casualty enforced by his do-gooder parents. I don't know, and at this point, I feel too physically exhausted to ask. I don't even know why I wrote this today, it was barely an update, just a rant, so hey 80-year-old me, I hope you enjoyed. Have fun dying soon._

_Jk_

_Claire_


	25. chapter 25

_1-30-16_

_I saw my parents today. They were having sex upstairs. It was less traumatizing than most of the shit I've seen them do. I came home to tell them that I wanted to move back home. The bunker was just getting a little too crowded for me. No one new had moved in, it was still just Charlie, Dean, David and I. And usually Cas, but he wasn't there all day long. For some reason lately it's been feeling packed to the brim. It's probably because of all the hormones wafting through the air, but I couldn't breathe when I was in that house. It was as though the air turned into a damp towel; I could get air through it, but it was hard and I could never fully fill my lungs. I still love Dean and Charlie and Cas, but I don't think I can stay in that environment anymore. It's not even only that the air was too thick for me to breathe, it was also all the emotions. At first when Dean and Charlie had showered me with care and affection, it was brand new. I had loved actually feeling loved and wanted by some sort of family, but now it was making me uncomfortable. I just wasn't used to it, and I'd been letting it happen for months now without any sense of discomfort, but now it's like it all hit me at once. Being in a place where you know how much people care just made me feel like a burden. To David, too. I wasn't as affectionate to him anymore because I was feeling so overwhelmed. I still cared for him deeply, maybe even loved him, but I didn't have the ability to express it because I got a sick feeling when I thought about commitment. I didn't know if I would ever be able to let our relationship progress farther to the point where we did actually admit our love to one another. I could maintain a physical relationship, but emotions just got messy. There was always a chance someone would fuck something up and ruin the entire thing, and I didn't want that. So there I was, summoning the courage to knock on their bedroom door, hearing the methodical squeaking of their mattress, pacing outside their door. I almost just walked back out and dealt with it myself, but I ended up knocking. Immediately the squeaking stopped and everything was silent for a minute. Then my mother opened the door, pulling a robe tight around her. She was cynical at first, and rude, mocking me for coming crawling back to her. My father has always been the more accepting one. But eventually after much persuasion, they came to an understanding, welcoming me right back home. I was so relieved I didn't know what to do, so I just gave them a thumbs up and walked back to my old room. I was happy to invite the feeling of emptiness that accompanied my parent's lack of care towards me. It's a sad thing to admit and look at on paper, but it's the truth. When you're raised without any love and affection, the minute you receive some, you want it to stop as soon as possible. And here I was, pretending like moving away from the problem and ignoring it would make it go away. Obviously leaving the bunker wouldn't stop any of the four of them from giving a shit about me, but it would stop me from constantly being under the pressure of their gazes and their words. I didn't know what to do then. They were my only friends. Then a thought occurred to me. If I didn't have to worry about their abundance of attachment and over protection, I had every opportunity to call Gabriel. Don't take it the wrong way, because it's not like I didn't know it was wrong. It's not like I didn't still care about them, it's just that I didn't want them caring about me. The guilt ate me up even entertaining the thought of calling Gabriel for a gram of that sweet substance, but I was itching to do it. Honestly, the long term effects of withdrawal were worse for me than the constant strokes and puking. It wasn't as much of the physical reaction now, it was more an emotional and mental one. I had depended on the heroin for that magical feeling of euphoria, for a release from all the pressure of my home life, even of the life I lived at the bunker. At the bunker I'd still been in bliss from the feeling of being loved that I was able to escape the need for it, but once the love became overbearing more than sweet and light, I seemed to crave it more and more. It's heavy for a 16 year old, trust me I know, but I couldn't help it. I wasn't exactly your average teen. I was neglected as a child, and most neglected children grow up seeking some sort of relentless attention and a clingy partner or group of friends, and I ended up in that five percent that wanted nothing more than to remain as introverted and ignored as possible. It was one of those situations where I enjoyed the time where Dean, Charlie and Cas treated me with exaltation only because I grew up thinking that's what I wanted. But once I got enough of a taste of it, I wanted anything but it. So, despite my better judgement, I picked up my phone and dialed the number. He was surprised to hear from me to say the least, but I assumed glad to have my business back. I snuck downstairs and took two hundred dollar bills from my mother's wallet. She'd hardly miss them. Once I reached my car, all thoughts of remorse and skepticism were wiped from my mind. I was going to do it, I was gonna meet Gabriel in our usual spot and buy half a gram, maybe more. Whatever two hundred would get me. Prices probably fluctuated while I was clean. My body practically buzzed with anticipation, my mouth almost watering at the thought of shooting up again. I sped down the streets, taking curves and stop signs recklessly. I wanted it more than words could explain. Once I got there, to that back alley, I saw his familiar figure in the darkening haze of the sky. My breath fogged around my mouth, and I shivered. I hadn't taken a coat because I was too eager. He greeted me as if we were childhood friends, glad to have one of his valued customers back, but his eyes were sad and his face almost cracked and broke down a few times, especially when I handed him two crisp hundred dollar bills. "Are you sure you want to do this, Claire?" he'd whispered. When I looked up at him, his eyes were starting to glaze over. Was he going to cry? I only nodded, urging him to take my money. He sighed, and glanced around us before reaching into his pocket and sifting through a few small plastic bags he had, each marked in sharpie with something I couldn't read. Weights, I assumed. "I'll see you soon," I had assured, then went back to my car quickly. The moment I got back home, my parents were in the kitchen, both smiling softly at each other. I wondered where Alex was, but ignored them and sprinted back to my room, slamming and locking the door behind me. I was shaking in anticipation while I let my bedside table skid a few feet to the right. I lifted the floorboard that hid my stash of sterile needles and pixie dust, reaching in excitedly. I had to hide this stuff from my parents before I'd moved out. When I put the needle in, I winced at the pinch, ready to press the button at the top of the needle. There was a brief moment of forethought, where I debated whether I should put pressure on it, but my thumb moved it down before my mind could catch up. My initial feeling was foudroyant, the overwhelming sensation overtaking me, catching my breath in my throat. It was pure ecstasy. I plucked the empty needle out, tossing it back onto the floor. I was weak. I am weak. I know. But I'd rather be numb and weak willed than strong and in pain. I know I'm weak. I know._

_Claire_

***

I couldn't find Claire anywhere. David and Charlie hadn't seen her, which wasn't surprising seeing how she was acting lately. She was a wild card again. Just when she'd began to tame, and reel herself in a bit, she started lashing out, shouting, punching walls. I didn't know what to do. So David and I decided to drive around town to search for her.

We looked in all the usual places, the pond outside her house, her favorite restaurant, the cafe I used to go to with Cas, the ice skating rink. She was nowhere.

"Do you have any other ideas?" he asked, pushing a worried hand through his hair. It stuck up, curls everywhere.

"We could check her house, but I doubt she'd go there," I admitted. "She doesn't really like her family. But it's worth a sh-" My phone started ringing, and when I looked down quickly, Cas's name was across the screen. "Can you answer it?"

David nodded, his slender fingers working over the screen to unlock it and answer the call. "Hey, Castiel, what's up?" He remained quiet, and tugged his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger. "Well, we both have our phones, does Charlie have hers?" I looked over at him curiously. What was going on? "No, I have no idea, I'll ask Dean." He turned to me, the phone still against his ear. "Cas says there's a phone ringing nonstop at the bunker but he can't find it anywhere. Charlie has her phone, and I have mine," he raised his eyebrows in question. "Any clue?"

Worry immediately overtook me. Was someone calling Sammy's phone? Why? No one had called his phone for weeks. Maybe it was Gabriel again, higher than a kite to ask Sam where he was and threaten to break off their deal. Maybe it was an old buddy of his who had yet to hear the news of his death. I didn't exactly go around preaching it at his school, so I didn't doubt that there were still people who assumed he was alive and just home on break or was taking a year off.

"Dean?" he interrupted my thoughts as I slowed to a halt at a yellow light. A car honked behind me, urging me to take the chance and speed through it, but it had changed to red already.

"Right, uh..." I furrowed my eyebrows, letting my fingers tap against the wheel. "Tell him it could be Sammy's and to check under the bed and in the drawer on the bedside table."

He repeated my advice into the phone and waited patiently whilst Cas did just that. I pressed onto the gas, now on Claire's street. "He found it," he nodded. "It was Sam's ph- oh, okay he's gonna answer it."

We waited silently, terror drifting it's way up my back. The hairs on the back of my neck were all standing straight up. It had been a while since I'd mourned Sam, usually distracted by Claire or Cas or Charlie. I had family and support surrounding me constantly now, and there was no reason for me to mourn. The thought guilted me into sadness, but I usually pulled myself out quicker than I used to.

When I glanced back over to David, he had paled considerably, and his jaw had dropped open. He drew in a shaky breath and put a hand up to cover his mouth.

"What?" I asked. "What's wrong?"

"I-" he stopped, biting his finger to contain a sob. He pulled the phone from his ear and hung it up. "Just wait. We'll be getting a call in a minute."

"Why? For what? From who?" I prodded at him, but he just shook his head and tried to breathe through whatever was happening, failing miserably. The moment the phone screen lit up with a foreign number across the top, he answered and put it on speaker, setting it onto the dashboard so we could both hear.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end asked warily.

"Who is this?" I demanded, pulling over to the side of the road down the block from the house of Claire's mother and father. And Alex.

"Dean? This is Gabriel..." he said, sounding almost more panicked than I felt.

"Why are you calling me?"

"I got a call today, from... someone who knew about Sam... and about you," he sighed. "She..." his voice cracked and he paused. I felt a rush of adrenaline and a drainage of all my energy at the same time. I knew already. I knew what he would say. "I hadn't talked to her in almost a month now... It's... her name is Claire."

"No," I shook my head. "No."

"She met with me today and offered me two hundred for whatever I could give her," he said. There was a popping noise on his end. "It was stupid, so so stupid of me!"

"You didn't give her any, did you?" I commanded him to answer. "Did you!?"

"I... I didn't want to, okay?! But I need business, too, this is my job!" he was shouting now. "I couldn't help it, but I regret it now, I know I shouldn't have done it and that's why I'm calling you. She talked about you, talked about Sam!"

"Gabriel, I will hunt you down-"

"If you can find her and stop her from doing something she'll regret you can-"

"-and I will break your neck-"

"Dean! Just find her, and stop her!" he screamed into the phone. Now he cared. After he had his money, then he cared about the teenage girl he'd sold heroin to.

He hung up. The fucking bastard hung up.

I didn't know how to describe my emotions. I didn't know if what I was feeling were exactly emotions anyway. I could feel how flushed I was, as opposed to David, who looked white as a sheet when I glanced at him. Once our eyes met, it was as if a fire was lit under us, and we both jumped out of the car and sprinted to her house, bursting in without knocking or warning her half naked parents standing in the kitchen.

"Dean!" her father exclaimed, a smile on his face. "Who's this?"

"No time," I shook my head, inching towards Claire's room. "Is she here?"

"Well, yes, she came home today, begging for us to let her move back i-"

I ignored the rest of his sentence. I didn't care if she wanted to move out, not now at least. While I pounded up the steps to her bedroom, all I cared about was stopping her from making that mistake. I couldn't let it happen again, I wouldn't.

Her door was locked, and I pounded on it, demanding her to open it, "Claire, open the fucking door!"

She didn't respond, but I heard rushed noises and something scraping against wood. Then there was nothing. I looked to David and gently pushed him back, taking a step away from her door and raising my foot. I kicked it open on my first shot, adrenaline burning in my legs and warming my whole body. Claire stood in the middle of the room, an innocent smile on her face, her arms crossed in front of her.

"Hi, Dean," she attempted to grin, but her lips were twitching, nerves pulling on nerves. "Hi, David."

He rushed past me, ascending onto Claire. His hands planted on her shoulders and he searched her eyes relentlessly, turning his head to meet my eyes. He shook it, then looked back to her face. She didn't even looked concerned as he ripped her sleeves up her arms forcefully, stumbling back when he saw them.

"Claire, no," he said, raising the back of his hand to his mouth.

I walked towards them, immediately laying my eyes upon the angry red dot on her inner wrist. She just smiled solemnly.

"Why?" was the only word I could form.

"Because, Dean," she said, her red rimmed eyes completely glazed over. "Because, how do you expect me to deal with someone like you?" There was a pang of hurt in my chest, but I knew she wasn't sober, she didn't know what she was saying as she scoffed and turned to David. "And you! You clingy, son of a bitch. How am I supposed to get anything done with you on my arm twenty four-seven? And Charlie, don't even get me- me started on Charlie!"

I shook my head. "You don't know what you're saying, Claire, stop," I pushed her firmly onto the bed, so she was perched on the edge.

"I can't deal with you anymore," she laughed.

"Don't do this, Claire, okay? Don't. You can come back home, we can fix this, we can... we can help you-"

"Help me how... Dean? Help me by what, locking my in my room? Forcing me to go to a mental hospital filled with addict freaks again!?" she was shouting now, and I saw David flinch in the corner of my eye. "I won't do it, okay? Because I don't need it!"

"Claire, you're high, okay? Just give yourself a few hours to come to your senses, please-" I was almost on my knees begging her.

"Dean, what don't you understand!? I! Don't! Need! You! I don't need it, and I most certainly don't need you! You're a control freak, obsessed with your dead fucking brother! You think I popped out of nowhere, and suddenly I'm his replacement! Well I'm not! I don't need a big brother, I don't need a boyfriend! I don't need Cas or Charlie-" she hiccuped, but kept speaking as though it didn't faze her in the slightest. "I never should have saved you from drowning in that pond. I never should have saved you from dying of hypothermia. All you've done is fuck my life even more than it already was, you know that? I thought you were helping me, really, I did-"

"Claire, please," I begged, but she stood up, poking my chest with her finger.

"-but all you did was ruin me! All you did was use me as a replacement for Sam! You just wanted to take care of me and get me clean so you could get over the fact that you were too self-absorbed to save Sam from himself! To save him from you!"

"Claire-"

"You, Dean, you've always been the problem. You fucked up Sam, you fucked up Jo and Ellen, god knows when you've had your fill of Cas he'll be fucked, too, and you fucked me. So don't try and play this innocent 'I'm only trying to save you' act, because I see right through it now! I know that the only reason you sent me to rehab was to mute your guilty conscience! It's so obvious! You aren't as fucking sly as you think! So stay out of my life, and leave me alone!"

I had no words. I couldn't even close my mouth.

"And you!" she turned to David now, who backed up until she had him pinned against the wall. "God knows you've only been a fucking distraction to me. I met you in a mental institution, do you really think I'd keep you around for anything other than my own personal enjoyment? You're both fucked, you really are, you know that? Both of you. I want you out." We didn't move a muscle, too petrified to do anything other than gape at her. She pointed to the door and shouted, "Now!"


	26. chapter 26

"Oh my god," David's hands were in his hair the moment we got outside, and he tugged at the roots. "Oh my god!"

I wanted to respond, to comfort him but I was still in major shock and confusion over what had just happened. Claire had been doing so well, Cas even said so. She was calming down, feeling comfortable at home.

Then she had to go and do a total one eighty. It didn't make a lick of sense. There wasn't anything that had occurred in the past few days to turn her around and make her ditch all of her hard work for nothing. She seemed to be getting better; her happiness was practically seething through her.

But what did I know?

I expected that Sam was happy and content when he'd overdosed.

There I went again.

She was right. I thought of her as a replacement for Sam. I'd said many times that she filled the gaping hole in me caused by the loss of a sibling. She was my new Sammy, different but the same. And in the brief three months that I'd known her, it was as if she'd adapted to filling that void with ease. Maybe I was just completely oblivious to her thoughts and feelings, but it seemed like she was glad to join our family.

Suddenly I was on my hands and knees on the grass of her front yard, my breath completely knocked from my lungs. It was happening again; a panic attack. My arms were shaking and my breath hitched in my throat. I tried to do what Cas had taught me, really I did, but I couldn't. I had not only witnessed the fall of a teenager, but it was my fault. It was all my fault.

David wasn't much help, seeing as he was having his own panic attack a few mere feet from me.

Eventually, my arms gave out from under me, and I flipped so I was laying on my back in the snow, looking up at the sky. It was only a few moments between day and night, where the sky was streaked with all the colors of the rainbow. It was incredibly calming, and I was able to focus on the movement of the fluffy clouds sliding through the atmosphere.

When I looked back to David he was sitting on the sidewalk, long legs spread out in front of him. I stood on incredibly shaky legs and kneeled next to him, urging him to stand up. After minutes of coaxing, he lifted himself from the cold concrete, shivers wracking through his whole body.

"I should have known," he murmured, over and over. We got into my car, and I blasted the heat. I was feeling incredibly dysphoric. Like my body was on autopilot and I didn't belong to myself. Like I wasn't the one who'd caused Claire's relapse.

"Stop, David," I replied, shifting the car into drive. "You wouldn't have known that she would relapse."

"No," he shook his head. "I should have known she didn't actually care about me. I'm such an idiot."

I recalled when he had first come home with Claire, that day I had first noticed a small shift in her personality. I had been so concerned for Claire, that David wouldn't be who he said he was in rehab. That he would be too good to be true for her. I'd warned her that he would change as he got used to not having Oxycontin, and here he was, broken to pieces by the very girl I was protecting. I swallowed thickly.

"How could you have known?"

"She was too good for me. I knew it the whole time, I knew Claire wouldn't actually care about me," he shook his head again. "She was... this whole thing was way too good to be true. And now-" he sniffled, wrapping his arms around himself in the passengers seat. "Now I don't have anything. I don't have a house or a family or her."

"David," I looked over to him, pressing my foot on the gas pedal harder to ease the tension in my body. "David, look at me." He obliged, his eyes puffy and red. "You still have a home, okay? Just because of Claire, we won't be kicking you out, understand?" he hesitated, but nodded a moment later. "And we are still your family, okay? I promise."

***

Adjusting to life without Claire was like adjusting to life without electricity.

You could do it; you could survive without electricity, but for us it was a basic staple in life. You did everything with electricity. It was constantly around you. Without it, though, everything was harder. The days were longer. There wasn't as much entertainment. You didn't talk to as many people.

It was just like that without her.

Everyday of life was a chore. I had to force myself to get out of bed every morning. Force myself to make food, force myself to dress and clean up and shower. Force myself to take the extra effort to socialize with Cas or David or Charlie.

Actually that wasn't necessarily true. Cas came around as often as he could, and if anything, he was more depressed than I was about the fact that Claire had relapsed and was no longer going to her weekly therapy sessions with him or anyone else.

He considered her his biggest failure, his guiltiest memory. He was so young that she was the first patient he'd ever had to relapse. It was hard to watch him struggle so much. He didn't have his usual ambition to do things, and observing how he dealt with her leaving was almost as hard as dealing with it myself.

There was no doubt in my mind that I loved Cas, not at all. Of course I hadn't said it yet, especially considering the circumstances. But even so, I hated seeing someone I loved struggle as much as he did. Neither of us really thought about what we were doing, but we made no effort or even the slightest attempt to keep things light between the two of us anymore. We were an outlet to pour frustrations and sadnesses into for each other.

Our sex life had gone from zero to one hundred in a matter of days.

We knew it was a bad way to deal with loss, hell Cas was a fucking therapist for Christ's sake, but we didn't address it. Every time it just sort of happened. I wasn't complaining, not in the slightest, I just knew that what we were doing was wrong. I felt bad that we were using each other, but it made me less guilty to know it was mutual.

Out of all of us, Charlie definitely took it the worst, and she and David looked to each other for comfort. It was interesting to watch their friendship bloom. They were both such big parts in Claire's life, especially Charlie. She hardly even looked at Castiel anymore, blaming the whole deal on him, along with herself. She loathed herself for not having known what Claire was going through, and punished herself daily.

Overall, the entire bunker had a tense feeling to it. Every time someone's phone would alert with a text or a phone call, everyone would jump, even if we were in separate rooms. We all yearned for even a word from Claire, something telling us she was sorry, even just that she regretted moving out. Deep down we all knew we wouldn't get one, but there was always a flicker of hope we could quite get rid of.

Cas and I were laying side by side in my bed, and my head was resting on his chest, still rising and falling faster than normal. I traced the outline of his bare abs, noticing that his ribs were poking out slightly. I ignored it, pressing a kiss to his chest. He shifted his arm tighter around me, sighing deeply.

Despite the solemn aura coating my entire room, I felt the need to tell him how I felt more than I ever had. Yeah, Dean, after-sex love confessions really brighten depressing moods. Oh well.

"Hey, Cas?" I asked, still running my fingers along his torso.

"Yeah, baby," he murmured, running his fingers through my hair.

Without another thought, I continued touching his stomach and said, "I love you."

His fingers froze in my hair, the tense air not changing in the slightest. His hand moved to my chin and tilted my head back gently so our eyes locked. He looked to my lips, then back to my eyes. "Dean," he said quietly. He tugged my face closer to his, crushing our mouths together. Our lips wove together naturally, tongues searching for each other straight away.

I took this as a good sign. After all when you tell someone you love them, kissing is good right?

He started to pull me closer to him, but ended up straddling my hips, cupping my jaw in his hands. He was insistent in his kisses, his lips hot and needy against mine. After a moan of approval, he moved his mouth to my neck, dragging his tongue under my ear. My shoulder raised involuntarily, my ticklish nature barely dampening the passionate mood. He just chuckled and rested his hand on it, pushing it down gently and sucking at the spot below my ear harshly.

My hands moved to his hips, grinding his down onto mine. I met his with my own, allowing him to focus primarily on my neck and then back to my lips. This time he moved the kiss slower, gentler, before pulling back to look me in the eyes, his hands stroking up to my jaw again, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones.

His blue eyes dug into mine, so deep and bright that I was rendered silent.

"Dean," he started. "I have loved you since the day I met you."

I rolled my eyes, blushing. "Shut up-"

"I swear," he shook his head. "Ever since that day at the cafe, where I was pretending to be a funeral director-"

"Wow, Cas, you're good at this whole bedroom talk thing," I laughed.

"I knew then and there, Dean," he promised. "I love you so much."

This time I was the one to cut him off with my mouth, slamming it into his hotly. He hummed in surprise and satisfaction, starting to push his hips into mine to a rhythm all of his own. I gasped in pleasure, but continued to let my tongue drag over his and make him sigh.

He pulled away then, dropping his head to my collarbone, pressing his lips wetly against it, and kissing down my chest to my stomach. He had scooted back now, and was sitting between my legs when he rested his hand on my length. I hissed out a breath between my teeth.

I'd loved Cas since before the first time he'd blown me, but for some reason, instead of just raw pleasure when he lowered his mouth onto my head, I felt warmth spread through my chest as well. It was the butterfly stage of our relationship all over again, just a little more... intense.

He worked masterfully over my shaft, pumping his hand over the length he didn't have in his mouth. If there was anything new I'd learned about Cas, it was that the man didn't have a gag reflex.

As if he'd read my mind, he removed his hand and took my full length into his mouth, swallowing around me. Knowing my weak spots by now, he seemed less than surprised when my hips lifted off the bed. My fingers wove into his hair as he bobbed his head up and down over me, swirling his tongue artfully. I was a panting mess, and when he pulled away I whined, until realizing he wasn't done.

He reached to my bedside table, retrieving a condom and lube from where it was already out a few mere minutes earlier. Despite the fact that we'd gone through this more than a few times, I blushed when I made eye contact with him. He rolled his eyes, only smirking and ripping the silver packet open with his teeth.

I watched him intently, never failing to enjoy seeing him ready to take me. Lust pooled in my stomach when he turned his head and made eye contact with me, his blue eyes darkening almost to black. He put the condom on me, and when he applied the lube, he pumped my shaft a few times before moving up to straddle me.

I wanted to watch him; I loved watching him ride me, but I wanted to kiss him more. So at the last moment, I took him by the hips, smirking at his small scream of surprise, and flipped him so he was under me, pushing into him as my lips pressed against his. He moaned loudly against them, letting his tongue pass into my mouth.

While I rode out my orgasm, his nails raked down my back, stinging and encouraging me at the same time. I kept one hand flat against the mattress by his head so I didn't collapse onto him, and put the other to his shaft, getting him off in two ways to overwhelm him with pleasure. Taking his little gasps and moans into my mouth, I figured I was at least doing something right.

We finished seconds apart, breathing heavily as I fell onto him. I pulled out and he whined quietly, probably involuntarily. I took the condom off and tied it into a knot before tossing it into the garbage near my bed.

I turned my head to look at him and found him watching me lovingly. I leaned forward to kiss him.

"I love you, Dean," he whispered when he pulled away.

"I love you, too, Cas," I smiled, kissing him again before putting my arms around him and closing my eyes.

***

I woke up entwined with Cas, his body on top of mine completely, his head resting next to mine. I recalled the previous night and smiled.

Cas loved me, too.

Even though all these terrible things were happening to us, this one good, great, thing had come from it. I desperately tried to roll him off of me without waking him, but I failed, accidentally jerking his body awake.

"Good morning," I whispered.

He smiled lazily. "Morning."

He got off of me then, allowing me to stand up and walk to the bathroom. His gasp was loud when I started walking towards it and I stopped, turning around to look at him. "What?"

His lips were pressed together and he pointed to me. "Your... your back," he winced. "I scratched it. Kind of badly."

I rolled my eyes. Cas was so careful, he couldn't hurt me. I twisted my neck so I could look at my back in the mirror, gasping as well when I saw it. He'd left long, angry red cuts down my back, four on each side. I let out a laugh and turned to look at him with wide eyes.

"Cas!" I scolded playfully.

"No, baby, I'm so sorry!" he shook his head, standing up to apologize.

"Cas, it's fine, trust me," I laughed it off, just kissing him softly. "So unless you wanna shower with me, go sit back down."

He shrugged, and walked towards the shower before me. I laughed again, slapping his ass, chuckling at his little yelp and following him, closing the door behind us.

We'd never had sex in the shower and that wasn't the day that changed.

No, being the absolute children we were, we had soap and water fights, just like we did today. But today it went too far.

"Shit!" he giggled, dropping his head against the tile wall. "You got shampoo in my eye."

"Aw, my poor wittle baby," I mocked, leaning forward to slick his hair away from his face so he could flush it out under the water.

We finished up quickly after that, mostly so Cas could try and rub the soap from his eye with a towel. I wrapped a red one around my hips, kissing Cas thoroughly until he physically pushed me into my room, urging me to change so we could get breakfast.

I laughed, stumbling into my room and leaving him to fix his hair and brush his teeth in the sink. I dried off quickly and changed into jeans and a dark burgundy t-shirt, then searched around for my phone. The night before I'd turned it on silent. I hadn't had any thought of texts or calls I would get, but I couldn't be bothered. Even this morning I didn't expect anything, only the time and maybe a text or two from Charlie and David.

What I definitely didn't expect, though, was sixteen missed calls from Alex, seven from last night and nine from midnight to now.

My eyebrows furrowed and I called him back almost hesitantly, my heart beginning to pound hard and fast in my chest.

The line rang six times before I heard him pick up. There was an abundance of background noise, all the voices sounding blended together like static. Maybe he was drunk. It was only 7am, maybe he was out late.

"Dean?" he was panting.

"Why are you calling me?" I asked, hoping he was drunk or high or anything.

"Something's happened," he urged. "Claire was in a car accident."

"What?" I gasped, my throat tightening. "Is she alright?" I asked.

Then my stomach dropped and everything happened in slow motion. My phone slipped from my hand and made a cracking noise as it hit the floor. Cas's voice called to me from the bathroom doorway. My whole world shattered before my very eyes for the fourth time in my life.

"Dean... Claire is dead."


	27. chapter 27

I stood, completely frozen, mouth wide open. Cas called to me from the doorway, but I couldn't understand him. I couldn't understand anything.

Then every bone in my body turned limp, and I fell to my knees. My breath was caught in my throat, and my hand was still up near my head, outlined in the shape of the now forgotten cell phone.

At first what I felt was a numbing, hollow emptiness in my chest, then I felt Cas's hand on my back, then my face and everything hurt while nothing hurt at all. My vision was black, and then my eyes filled with tears.

"No," I whispered, unable to utter more than a syllable.

"Dean, what's going on?" he demanded, kneeling in front of me. He reached for the phone dropped by my bed. "Who is this- Alex? Why are you calling, what's goi-" he paused for a moment and my knees dropped so I was sitting on my feet, mouth still open. "What are you talking about? Is she okay?" He was silent, then his eyes turned to mine. His voice broke, "Wh-what?"

A strangled sob escaped my lips, and I buried my face in my hands, muttering over and over, "No, no, no."

That couldn't be right. Alex was lying.

This was a cruel, drunken prank being pulled by her parents and their boy toy. They were just joking.

"No, she... no," he said, sounding hoarse. I looked up at him and his whole face was neutral, still kneeling in front of me. Without another word, he grabbed me and pulled me up and clutched me, sobs coming from my mouth.

My entire body was shaking.

It wasn't true. She wasn't gone.

She couldn't be gone.

This would ruin Charlie.

Ruin David.

I wouldn't be able to go on. Not again.

Not again.

"Dean," he whispered, putting his hands on either side of my assumed red face. He cried. Tears rolled down his face. "This is my fault," he said, his voice strangled and hoarse. "All my fault."

I'd never seen Castiel cry before.

I'd never seen him show a lick of emotion and that alone was enough to ruin me.

There was knocking on my door.

The empty pain struck me again, forcing me to clutch the edge of my bed for support in my agony.

"Dean? Cas? Everything alright?" Charlie's voice rang through the door.

We locked eyes, and I felt another round of tears force their way down my face. The knob turned.

Everything happened slowly.

Charlie walked in, followed by David, hovering almost a foot above her.

"Woah, guys? What's going on?" she put up a hand to block Cas's bare back from her view. I just then remembered that he was dressed in only a towel.

"I-" I began, cut off by my own throat betraying me.

"What happened?" she rushed the words out, her mouth stumbling over them as she ran over to us. David remained in the doorway, paling immediately before we'd even said anything.

When I looked up to meet her eyes, my body still shuddering involuntarily, she put a hand to her mouth. "No," she whispered into it.

I looked back to Cas, who's face was buried into the blanket on my bed, hands fisted into the sheets. He was sobbing practically uncontrollably now, shaking as well. I looked back up to Charlie.

I could tell- feel- that despite the fact tears were rolling down my cheeks, my face looked blank. There was nothing I could do to fix it. I was in shock. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to react.

Charlie collapsed against the wall, sliding down it with wide eyes. "No."

When I looked over to David, he was emotionless, leaning against the door frame. He didn't move except for his hands shaking more vigorously than usual. I stood on shaky legs, knowing he was struggling with how to feel as well. The poor boy had no clue how to deal with this sort of loss, not without opiates, which I was sure he was yearning for at that moment especially.

When I was finally in front of him, his eyes finally traveled up to meet mine, looking completely dead. I put my hands on his shoulders and they were shaking, too. A soft whimper came from his mouth and he pushed forward, burying his face in my chest and clutching his arms around my neck. I warily raised mine to hold his thin frame, holding him tight as if he was the only thing I had left.

And he almost was. He and Charlie held the most of Claire within them, and holding him was like close to holding the next best thing. He cried hard into my shirt, soaking it, no doubt.

I didn't care. I couldn't care, especially when he was so broken and I was shattered.

My life was a puzzle, and it had been coming together, it was almost complete. When Charlie had left us, it was like someone took a few pieces away and now... now it felt like someone picked the puzzle up and dropped it on the floor, scattering all the pieces with no hope of finding them all and putting it back together.

The room was painted in black, and the only sounds filling it were Cas's sobs along with Charlie's and sniffles from David, still holding me as if I were his life line. I was silent now, the tears on my face dried, and that familiar, sweet empty feeling starting to invade me. I welcomed it. I knew it wouldn't last. Not this time.

***

As it turned out, Claire had died a day and a half ago, and Alex and her parents had only found her a mere hour before calling me for the first time.

She had been driving home (high) from a 24 year old man's house. Apparently they had been buddy-ing up to shoot up and have sex. When we heard this, David had had to leave the room and threw up.

I was right in assuming that the emptiness wouldn't last long, because only hours after the initial shock of Claire's death, pain invaded every pore and muscle and tendant in my body. My veins ran cold, so cold that everything burned with every move I made, every thought I had.

Charlie seemed more numb than anything. She would stare into space most of the time, only jolting back to reality when you would shout at her or shake her. Cas was worse than her, if anything. He saw the entire ordeal as his fault, just as she did, and admitted failure and took blame every time someone asked. He looked absolutely destroyed, unable to focus for too long, unable to speak or do much other than cry or sleep.

Alex had invited us over to sift through her things, to take whatever we wanted as a keepsake. He and her parents hadn't gone up to her room yet, only staying in their room or the kitchen, according to him. It was "too hard" for them to go into her room, where she slept, where she lived most of her hours.

Lived.

I couldn't bear to think of her in the past tense. Claire deserved to live.

She wasn't some random drug addict who didn't want to be better.

She was almost seventeen, and her home life was completely fucked.

She deserved happiness.

She played the piano and was so caring that she had to protect herself by pretending.

She deserved better.

She loved David, and she loved Charlie. They were her family, we were her family despite what she said to us.

Claire deserved to live.

We made plans to drive to her house later today, to sift through her things, try not to cry, things like that. We also wanted to discuss funeral details with her parents.

I said "we" as if I wouldn't be the only one present, but I was.

I didn't go alone; David went with me, but the moment he walked into her old room, he felt sick. He could barely walk into her room at the bunker- he hadn't since she left us initially.

I walked in hesitantly, Alex waiting for me out in the hallway. Cas was passed out at home, and Charlie had locked herself in her room.

I knew I hadn't even felt the brute of my sadness for Claire's death; nowhere near it. I'd practically memorized every detail of my feelings with death. I would feel a million times worse tomorrow despite the fact that the pain today was unbearable.

Her room looked exactly the same as a few weeks back, only... messier. The sheets on her bed were twisted, and I had to look away from the abundance of condom wrappers in the garbage next to it. I sifted through the drawers in her bedside table, finding an old diary and a few drawings before a note. It was addressed to me.

I acted as though I didn't see it, swallowing the lump in my throat and continuing to look. I blinked vigorously. Don't look, Dean. Of course, though, I looked, opening it then and there.

Dear Dean,

I'm sorry.

I'm so, so sorry.

I don't believe what I said to you. I'm glad I saved you. You haven't fucked me over. You didn't fuck Sam over and you won't fuck Cas over.

You're the most giving, amazing man I've ever met.

Of course I'll never give this to you. Ever. I'm not a fucking sap.

But... if you're reading it *spooky voice* I guess I'm dead.

I whimpered, but blinked hard and kept reading.

I probably overdosed or something. I know that's incredibly disappointing for you. For me, too. And I'm sorry. You don't deserve this, okay? You deserve the best, and I wasn't that. You deserve a real family, one that won't keep letting you down like I have.

This isn't your fault, okay? This is no one's fault but my own.

I loved you. I still love you. You and Charlie and Cas and David.

But I can't deal with your feelings towards me.

I've never had emotions reciprocated towards me, and when you guys said you cared about me just as much as I did about you, it scared the shit out of me.

The only comfort I could think of that would get rid of that horror was... well you know what it was.

Speaking of that, my stash is in the loose floorboard under my nightstand.

Thanks for snooping through my shit by the way.

Just kidding, it's okay.

I love you guys, okay? And I know this note is half-assed as fuck, but honestly I'm still kind of high while I'm writing it.

Sorry.

You don't need to know that.

Anyways, wherever I am, whether you're reading through this while I'm out or I actually am dead, I will always love all of you. And you don't deserve this. Tell David I love him more than life itself. I hadn't gotten the chance to say it to him.

He needs to hear it, especially if I'm gone.

Love you, Dean,

Claire

I stared at the note for what felt like hours, just staring at it. I didn't read it again, I just looked through it. She knew she was going to die, and didn't do anything to stop it from happening.

I wanted to be angry, I wanted to feel mad that she'd seen this coming and hadn't done shit to stop it, but I couldn't. I knew she couldn't help herself.

That just didn't seem to be enough for me.

I calmly folded the note and tucked it into the cover of the diary.

I knelt before her nightstand, worried that I might actually find the stash she spoke of in her note.

More than that I was worried and a bit angry because I knew that if I presented her collection to her parents, they would take it and "confiscate" it when really they'd just use it themselves.

Never the less, I skidded the stand to the side, immediately spotting the floorboard. I wiggled it open and found exactly what she was talking about. There was at least a half pound bag of heroin in it, along with small packs of sterilized needles surrounding it. Band-aids were also scattered inside, but I didn't stop to inspect further. Instead I put the floorboard back, along with the stand and stood up, swiping the diary and catching David before he fell down the steps.

"Do you guys have any funeral plans?" I asked Samantha, who was standing in the kitchen, her pale skin red and puffy. I felt no pity for her.

"Yes, we want to have it within the next few days," she sniffed and nodded. David tensed beside me. "Dean, would you or Charlie want to give the eulogy? I would but..."

"But you were a shit mother?" David's mouth spit the words out angrily and I reached around him to cover it with my hand.

"Sure we can do that," I nodded, and she turned her eyes down in a glare at him.

"Alright, I'll have Alex call you with more details," she nodded to me, and I took that as my cue to leave. I didn't say anything to David about his small outburst. I understood why he did it.

The rest of the day seemed to drag along for much longer than it lasted. I flipped through the tough pages of Claire's diary, cringing when David saw it and winced.

It was sad to read; interesting to see her outlook on the mental hospital and Castiel and her emotions towards David in the very beginning, but sad to reminisce who she was then compared to who she was a few mere days ago.

I cried more that night.

Cas hadn't left his spot in my bed since I'd gone to Claire's house, maybe even longer. I shook his shoulder gently to see if he was awake, but he didn't seem to be.

I let him sleep.

I tried to fall asleep, but failed miserably.

It was one am by the time I looked at my clock, after staying in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours.

It all felt too familiar. The emptiness, the pain, the sleepless nights.

But this time, I didn't think I could deal with it. The realization was just starting to set in.

Claire was really gone.

The moment hot, fiery loss started to swirl into my throat and chest, I stood up and walked towards the kitchen. I passed David, fast asleep on the couch on my way and reached into the cabinet.

It was wrong.

I knew that.

But I needed to sleep.

I needed to take my mind off of what was coming. So I gave myself one night, with a promise of being completely sober the next day.

I took a few, harmless gulps of vodka, waiting at the counter until I felt some sort of lightness float into my head.

I drank some more.

I stumbled back to my room, laying down next to Cas again.

The sadness that had invaded me seemed to have sizzled away at least slightly with the vodka, so I gladly tucked myself tighter under the covers and threw an arm around Cas's waist for his comfort and my own.

I kissed the back of his neck and murmured a soft "I love you" before drifting off into the blissfulness that was unconsciousness.


	28. chapter 28

When I woke up the next day, there was a moment of blissful ignorance. 

Just a short, silent second with Cas's back pressed against me that everything was okay. The world was peaceful and calm, and nothing was bad, evil or gone. 

But realization hit me like a truck, and in a single, just as short moment, the world crashed around me again. Images of Claire's stash and the pages of her diary invaded my mind and a sigh escaped my lips. I sat up slowly, letting myself drown in the sadness. Cas remained asleep, or seemed so, so I turned, and let my legs dangle off the side of my bed. 

I went through the motions of a normal morning, taking notice of the overwhelming silence enveloping the bunker. While I filled the coffee maker, I looked left, seeing the bottle of vodka I'd left out last night. I looked away. 

There was a shifting noise behind me, what I assumed was David waking up. I pressed start, letting the machine take care of the rest. With trained eyes, I passed the vodka and threw open the fridge, no real appetite. 

It was surprising that the complete and utter heartbreak I was feeling was less of a struggle to cope with than the lack thereof that I would be feeling later; what I figured Cas was feeling right now. 

I knew it all too well by now, after Sam. 

That, though, wasn't saying that the pain was easy to cope with. It was the worst stab and knife twist you could ever imagine in your chest, and a seasick sensation in your gut, guilt swirling in it. Without prior knowledge of the difficulty of numbness, I would easily choose it over this suffering. 

I looked behind me to see David, standing behind me, looking devastated. I walked around the table and opened my arms to him, welcoming the warmth dousing the pain when he wrapped his lengthy arms around my torso. I felt a fondness for him, and he brought me comfort, knowing he had small pieces of Claire in him. He was so passive and hesitant, specks of addiction still littering him, but nonetheless, he was the kindest kid I'd ever known. 

"It hurts, Dean," he said quietly. I lifted my hand, shaking out his hair. 

"I know," I whispered back. 

We were the only ones who were up and about, and had been for the past few days. We didn't hold it against Cas or Charlie, we understood what they were going through. 

I poured David a cup of coffee and, when his head was turned, against my better judgement, I tipped the bottle of vodka and let it make up over a quarter of my coffee. 

"I'm gonna try and wake up Castiel," I said quietly, taking a swig of my coffee. I set it down on the table and walked heavily back to my room. He hadn't moved a muscle since I'd left. I sat on the edge next to him, brushing his hair back from his face. "Babe," I said softly, shaking his shoulder. 

His eyes blinked open right away, making contact with mine. They were bright for a mere moment before they became muted, and I knew he felt what I had this morning. There was nothing when he just woke up, no pain, no loss, none of it. Then reality found its way to him and he looked away from me. 

"Cas," I said, holding his jaw in my hand. He warily looked back up at me, blue eyes dark and bland. Nothing like the cheeky, pun spitting Cas I knew. He sighed and I looked down, kissing his forehead. "Do you just want to sleep for a little while?" I offered. He nodded and I added, "Okay, I love you. You should eat later." He remained silent and I stood, walking back to the kitchen near David. 

"Do you want to work on a eulogy?" he asked the moment we made eye contact. I shrugged, sitting across from him and swigging my coffee, craving a light, bouncy feel instead of the dragging feeling I had now. 

"Should I call Alex and ask for more details?" I asked. He nodded and I reached across the counter to get my phone and dial his number, walking outside with bare feet to meet him. 

"Hello?" he asked, sounding dark and a little high if I was hearing him right. "Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me," I responded, drinking my coffee. "Do you have any more information on a funeral date?"

"Oh, um," his voice caught in his throat, surprising me. Did he actually care about her? "Yeah... we're thinking tomorrow actually, just to get through with it. We don't want to drag it out..."

I nodded. "Alright," I trailed off. It was strange talking to him, especially now. Especially after. 

I remembered the first time I'd met him, when he and Claire's parents thought that we were together. That morning when her father had made us bacon and pancakes, absolutely disgusting. He'd made a great first impression on me, and even though I questioned his morals as a person, I had since the beginning admired his kindness and humor. I had no reason to hate him other than my petty jealousy with Cas and him being friends. 

"We should meet," he said quietly, sobering up quickly. "I know Samantha asked you if you wanted to write the eulogy, I thought we could work on it together."

I stuck my hand in my pocket, shivering against the shocking cold of winter. "Okay," I blinked my tears away. "I was going to work on it with David..."

"He can come, too," he added quickly. "I'd just like to add a few things in there. Even though she didn't like what I was doing with her parents, I still loved her like a sister."

I didn't want to comment on the fact that what he said was a little incest-y, so I just remained silent. "When?"

"The sooner the better, maybe an hour?" he asked hesitantly. I nodded, knowing he couldn't see me. 

"Where?" 

"How about the cafe across the street from the library?"

"Alright."

I hung up and stood outside for a few minutes extra, just the let the freezing air pierce me. Eventually, I walked back in and threw back the rest of my coffee, now luke warm. 

"Alex wants us to meet him in about an hour at a cafe," I told him, moving to get more coffee, ready to put even more vodka in it. David could always drive us.

"Both of us? Alex?"

I nodded. 

"I don't want to see Alex," he shook his head. "I hate Alex. He ruined Claire's life. This is his fault."

"David-"

"No. I'm not going," he stood up and stomped down the hallway, slamming Claire's door behind him. 

I let out a long sigh, drinking the vodka straight from the bottle. 

I would be fine to drive. 

In my room, I changed quickly, pulling my boots on and tying them with slight difficulty. I kneeled in front of Cas, who was staring blankly ahead. 

"Castiel," I whispered. He looked at me, not focusing. I leaned forward and kissed his forehead as I had earlier, and this time he closed his eyes. 

I decided that with my extra time, I would walk to the cafe instead of driving, just to play it safe. I still wasn't entirely sure how Claire had died. If the car crash had just been a game of chance, or if she'd been high or even if someone else had been driving. 

I wrapped my hands around the travel mug, reveling in its warmth and taking a long gulp, walked forward into the snowy streets. The drink burned on its way down.

The day was dark, and snow fell around me in large, dense flakes. I looked down as I walked, not focusing on where I was going, and trusting myself to get to the coffee shop without much notice. A car pulled up next to me, and I continued walking, not thinking much of it, not having the energy to think much of it. I slipped on a patch of ice and caught myself, stumbling a few steps to regain my balance. 

"Dean!" Alex's voice called. I turned around, seeing him in the car that had pulled up next to me. "Hop in," he motioned me over. I hesitantly walked to the passenger's seat, sliding in without making direct eye contact with Alex. I took another drink of my coffee mixture before turning my head to look at him. 

His eyelids were half closed, and his arm was draped across the passengers seat, his finger tips brushing my shoulder. I looked up to his eyes, my eyebrows furrowed. He tilted his head to the side. 

"Hey, I don't know if I really feel like being around a lot of people right now," I shook my head, holding my mug between my knees, shifting it in a circle to do something with my hands.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked. "We can do it at the bunker."

"No, I don't want to be there right now," I shook my head. 

"We can go to my house," he shrugged. 

I barked out a laugh, "I don't want to be in the house Claire lived in for 16 years. I won't."

"I do have my own apartment, you know?" he asked. "That's what I meant. I don't want to go there either."

I looked up at him, searching his face. "Okay."

The drive to his apartment was short, and surprisingly close to Cas's apartment. It took me a good five minutes to realize that he lived in the same building as him. That's why they were so familiar with each other. 

We walked in side by side, our arms brushing occasionally. 

"How's Cas doing?" he asked. I made eye contact with the familiar man behind the desk, who smirked at me and waved. I nodded back and looked to Alex. 

"He's not doing well," I shook my head. "He's having a really hard time. He hasn't gotten out of bed yet. He thinks it's all his fault." We stopped outside his door, waiting while he fidgeted with his keys, his hands shaking vigorously. I tilted my head to the side, a floating feeling finally finding its way to my brain and chest. "But it's mine, too. Mine more.... mine more than his."

He turned to look back at me, pushing the door forward. "It's my fault, Dean."

He looked up, meeting my eyes now. We stood for a moment, frozen as we searched each other's eyes. I saw the obvious guilt in his, glazed with something else. It was obvious he was under some sort of influence, but it was okay, because I was, too. 

Before either of us knew what was happening, we were stumbling into his apartment and he was slamming me against the back side of his door, his hands on the back of my neck, lips insistent on mine. I responded just as, if not more eagerly than he did, holding his hips and pulling them against mine. He moaned into my mouth, shaking hands moving to rip the jacket off of me, followed by my shirt. He pulled away, searching my face before letting his eyes trail to my chest and torso. 

I pulled him against me again, running my tongue along his bottom lip and sighing at the burning in my stomach. He dragged me along with him to his bedroom, never breaking our kiss. He fell back against the bed, laying on his back in front of me. I nudged his legs apart with my knee to stand between them and strip him of his own coat and shirt, letting my hands spread on his chest. I looked up to meet his eyes and his eyebrows were furrowed. 

I leaned over him, pressing my lips against his neck. He gasped and ran his fingers through my hair as I left a hickey on him, kissing my way back up to his mouth. Our lips melded together surprisingly easily, and I shifted so I was kneeling on the bed, lifting Alex's hips to rest on my thighs. Our tongues brushed and I let my hands trail down his torso, working to unbutton his jeans. It was exceedingly difficult considering my drunk circumstance. 

He stopped, opening his eyes to look into mine, I figured both of ours were glazed over. 

He helped me slide his pants off, followed by mine before pushing me back against his pillows and attacking my mouth with his.


	29. chapter 29

I woke up in an unfamiliar bed. 

In an unfamiliar room. 

With an unfamiliar bare chested man asleep on top of me. 

I blinked away the weariness in my eyes and breathed deep in a sad and unsuccessful attempt to dull the pounding ache in my head. I must have drank too much last night. 

I panicked, too petrified to move under the man. I had no clue why I was there, or why I was bare chested as well. 

He started shifting and sat up, rolling off of me and yawning. He looked over a moment later and I was met with Alex's face. 

A gasp escaped both of us and I jumped off the bed, thankful that I had boxers on, even if I was shirtless. He pulled the comforter up to cover his chest and I rolled my eyes, but pressed my back against the wall opposite him. 

"What the hell are you doing in my house?!" he shouted. 

"What the hell am I doing in your house!?" I shouted back, searching the floor for a shirt. I picked up the wrong one and threw it back down. "Why am I in your bed?" I furrowed my eyebrows. "What the fuck happened last night?"

He scoffed and shifted, keeping the blanket around his shoulders. "How should I know? I don't remember you coming home with me. What did you do? Did you fuck me while I was high!?" 

My jaw dropped. "No! Of course I didn't," I shook my head, then paused. Memories started flooding my mind. 

The most prominent being Alex underneath me moaning. 

"No," I repeated, looking back up at him. 

"Dean!" he yelled, picking up a pillow and throwing it at me. "I'm in a relationship! You're in a relationship! With my neighbor! Oh my god, why would you do that!?" he threw another pillow at me and I caught it this time. 

"Alex, you were just as into it as I was! And I was drunk so you technically fucked me while I was fucked up, too! Dammit," I growled punching the wall. My fist went right threw it. 

"DEAN!" 

"Sorry, sorry... about that," I sighed. "What do we do?" 

"What do you mean what do we do, Dean?" he shook his head. 

"What about Cas?" I shook my head. "He knows I would never do anything like this."

"Oh shut the fuck up, Dean," he shook his head. "Don't act all high and mighty here, drinking doesn't make you do things you wouldn't normally do, it just makes you more likely to give in to it," he scoffed. "What I had last night, however, takes your morals and throws them the fuck out the window. Along with making you black out. I don't remember a thing from last night."

"You are not pinning this on me!" I said, pointing at him. "It takes two to tango, dickhead, and you obviously wanted this, too."

"Oh, so you wanted this?" he tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed and condescending. 

"You know what I mean," I sneered. 

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Okay," he breathed out. "Okay, this is what we do," he said. "This didn't happen. This never happened, alright?"

"What?" I asked, looking back at him. 

"This stays between the two of us," he assured. 

"No, I'm not gonna lie to Cas, he-"

"He probably didn't even realize you were gone!" 

"I don't care if he-"

"He's probably still sulking around-"

"-I won't lie to him, Alex-"

"-so this can stay between you and-"

"-I love him-"

"-and honestly, between us-"

"-I would never hurt him-"

"-that was some pretty bombin' sex," he laughed. 

"What did you just say?" I stopped short of my previous sentence. 

"I'm not gonna lie, that was-"

"No, no, no," I shook my head. "I thought you didn't remember last night."

"I...don't," he responded. 

"You just said it was bombin' sex!"

"Oh," was his only response. 

"You're a fucking liar! You knew exactly what was happening the whole time!" I accused. "Why would you do that!?"

"Dean," he shook his head, dropping the blanket over his chest. "I-"

"I'm gonna have to tell Castiel, and he's gonna hate me," I said, eyebrows furrowed. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, "He'll be fine, trust me."

"What?"

"He's a smart guy, he'll understand," he nodded. 

"What!?"

"Why would he be mad that you did the exact same thing he did?" he asked, shrugging. 

"What?" I repeated, heated anger rising in my chest and neck, my headache now long forgotten.

"A few months ago, Castiel came to me, drunk off his ass and practically begged me to fuck him," he admitted. "How was I supposed to say no to that face?"

I was conflicted as every emotion possible ran through me. Anger first, followed by guilt and sadness and loss and anger and understanding, then more anger. How could he?

"Oh, please, you can't be mad at him," he shook his head, smirking. "You did the same thing."

"Are you kidding me?" I scoffed. "Are you enjoying this?"

"Not particularly, no," he shrugged, picking at his nails. "What I do enjoy is proving to both of you that you're terrible people."

"What, so it's just a past time of yours to tear couples apart?" 

He shifted, "No, it's a past time of mine to show couples what their partner is really like." He laughed shortly. "Sometimes, I get a couple like Claire's parents who don't have a problem with it, and are open to a polygamous relationship with me..." he looked back up at me, a silent question in his eyes.

After a moment, his question hit me. "Oh, you want to be with me and Cas?" I laughed. "You're that desperate? That you'll just rip us apart and try and fucking use yourself to glue us back together?"

He shrugged. "That's how it works out sometimes," he smirked. "And you can't imagine what the sex is like," he laughed, "if you thought last night was good, imagine it with both me and Castiel."

My jaw seemed to be permanently open, unable to even form words for a solid minute. "You're joking right? This is a joke?"

It seemed to hit me all at once, only a few moments after it was said. I had accused Cas of cheating on me with Alex a countless number of times. 

He denied it every. Single. Time. 

Not only did he cheat on me, but he lied to me. And I had believed him. I put all of my suspicions to the side and loved him. I had been right. 

"Why would I joke about this?" he asked, scooting to the edge of the bed. I noticed that, thankfully, he had boxer shorts on as well. "Dean, stop," he said when I kept shuffling through the laundry on the floor. I paused to look up at him with a glare. "I'm kind of asking you out right now, I'd like it if you paid attention," he laughed. 

I narrowed my eyes and stood up straighter now, walking over to where he sat on the bed so I was directly in front of him. "This is supposed to be you asking me out?" I scoffed. "Alex, you're even more fucked up than I thought you were," I chuckled and shook my head. "And anyways what about Samantha and-"

"I can't be around them right now," he said, standing from the bed so we were practically nose to nose. "It's like they don't even give a fuck that their daughter is dead!"

That's right. 

The funeral was supposed to be that day. And they were supposed to have written a eulogy last night. 

"Well, that's another thing," I sighed. "You helped cause this," I looked up into his eyes, ignoring the pleading within them. "Do you think Claire's parents cheating on each other with you, then keeping you- their little boy toy- around didn't completely fuck her over?"

He gasped, "Are you serious?"

"Why would I joke about this?" I tilted my head to the side, using his words from earlier. I picked up a random pair of sweatpants from the floor and slipped them on, along with a purple shirt that said "Bazinga!" on it. I found my boots near the door and walked into them, then left without any attempt of contacting Alex again. 

Even if I planned on not telling Castiel that I had slept with Alex, he or David would obviously wonder why I was gone all night. I'd left my phone at home all night, on the counter by the bottle of vodka I'd been practically chugging. David could have called Alex, but he had such a hatred for the man I doubted it greatly. 

I punched the wall on the staircase on my way down, and heard a cracking noise. The wall was brick. 

I'd broken my fucking hand. 

And I didn't have a god damned car with me. 

Fuck.

I whimpered a little, but almost accepted the pain in my hand as a punishment for being such a fucking dickhead, idiot asshole. 

My knuckles had already been split from punching a hole in Alex's drywall, and now they were practically gushing blood everywhere. When I reached the lobby, the same doorman from the past few times shot up out of his seat, eyes wild at the sight of my hand. 

"Uh- do-um- should I call an ambulance?" he asked, concern all over his face. We'd barely interacted before and somehow we had an unspoken agreement to be friends. 

"No," I shook my head. "Can you just... I don't know can you just drive me to the hospital, please?" I begged. "Please, I don't... I can't afford an ambulance," I sighed. I hadn't sold a story- or written one, either- in months. I was broke, and although Charlie often offered money, I knew for a fact she was stealing it from random people across the world and I didn't want to be traced back to that fraud. 

"Well," he bit his lip and looked to a staff only door. "You know what, I'm off in five minutes," he sighed and walked around the desk to me, placing a hand on my shoulder to lead me back to the staff room, where it looked like a small kitchen. "I'm just gonna grab my keys," he glanced at the blood now dripping from my knuckles, "and a towel for that."

I nodded, pushing back even more anger at myself while he shuffled around the small room. 

Now I was staining the fucking carpet. 

I was a fucking mess, and the building managers would now have to pay to get blood out from their carpet. I was such a goddamn fuck up. 

When he turned around rushed back towards me, tears were stinging at my eyes. It wasn't the pain, I could handle the pain, although it did hurt like a fucking bitch, but now I had stained the carpet. I had proved Claire right. I knew I would fuck Cas up. 

But I still couldn't believe that Castiel had lied to me. He had slept with Alex, too. 

"Woah, woah, woah, stop, it's okay," he said, moving even quicker now with his towel, sliding it under my other hand. "Here, it's okay, I'll get some pain meds," he assured. 

"No, it's okay," I responded, my voice even and low. "I just feel bad that I ruined the carpet."

He froze, looking down to where I was wrapping my hand up in the towel. "Your hand is broken and you feel guilty because you're bleeding on the carpet?" I nodded. He chuckled, "Let's go."

We walked out a back door to the staff parking lot, and he drove quickly, glancing over every few seconds to make sure I was still okay. 

When we arrived at the hospital, he dropped me off at the door, telling me he would be in when he parked the car. The lobby was a little more crowded than when Cas and I had come, but the wait shouldn't have been too long. I gave the woman my social security number, taking care of our technicalities quickly, and rushing even more when a line of people started forming in back of me. The man from the lobby came up behind me right when I was walking away, taking the clip board from me to fill out the familiar form. 

He asked me questions quickly, and wiggled his eyebrows when he got to a box that asked if I had a history of STDs. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. 

He volunteered to go turn in the sheet of paper to the receptionist, then came back and sat next to me, tapping a beat onto his knees with his fingers. 

"You know my name," I looked over to him. He knew it by default, because he had to write it down on the sheet for me. My right hand was now throbbing and the pain was searing. I had to clench my jaw to keep from making a pained noise. He raised an eyebrow. "What's yours?"

"My name is Michael," he smiled weakly, then looked down at my hand, noticing that the towel was almost soaked through. "Are you alright? Dizzy at all?" he searched my face. 

"Yeah, why do you ask?" 

"Well, you've lost... wow, you've lost a lot of blood," he bit his lip and reached down to inspect my hand. "Can I...?" he said softly, lifting the blood soaked towel. I nodded and gasped. I hadn't seen how broken it was before, but you could almost see the the bone. There was an abundance of blood, and every one of my knuckles was torn and ripped, stray pieces of skin still hanging on by a single thread. "Dean, oh my god," he gasped, covering it back up. "You're going to need stitches, for sure," he shuddered. "God damn," he laughed breathily. 

"Shit," I cursed under my breath. Seeing the actual break seemed to make it hurt even worse, if that was possible. 

He grimaced, seeing the pain written all over my face. "Do I dare ask how this happened?" 

I glanced up at him with my eyes narrowed in pain. "I punched a wall," I said through my teeth. "Twice."

He nodded. "I expected that, yes," he laughed. "Are you cool sharing details?"

"Well..." I trailed off. Did I really want to tell this guy my life? 

I guessed that if both Cas and Alex lived in the building where he worked, I would refrain from coming around. 

But I tried not to think about that right then. Was I going to break up with Castiel?

"You don't have t-"

"No, it's... I should probably talk about it," I shrugged. When was I ever going to see Michael again? Never. "I- well- it's.... it's a really long story." I looked up to meet his grey eyes. 

"Well," he gestured to the room in front of us, slowly filling up. "I think we have some time."

"Uh... okay," I blew out a deep breath. "I guess I'll start at the beginning..." I cleared my throat shifting my hand to try and gain some sort of comfort. "A few months ago, my brother... uh... well he overdosed on heroin and... he died," I felt a hand on my shoulder and kept looking down at the towel, slowly becoming heavier with blood. "And I met this guy- the funeral director- named Castiel..."

I was just about to tell him about Claire's death when a woman in bright blue scrubs called my name, ushering me over to the door she was standing in.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked. 

"Uh..." I looked down at him. "Sure," I nodded towards her, walking forward and letting her guide us to a room. I sat on the observation table uncomfortably and let her take my vitals. She didn't comment on my hand and barely glanced at it, even as a drop of blood fell on the sheet of paper laying over the table. 

"So what brings you in today?" she asked, flipping the survey paper over to take notes. I glanced over to Michael and lifted my hand. "Well, would you look at that," she said, nodding at the bloody rag over it. "Let's get that guy cleaned up."

She walked around the room slowly, picking up some alcohol wipes and gauze, then slipped gloves on. She brought the garbage can over, settling it between my legs and gesturing for me to let the towel drop into it. "Sweet Jesus!" she exclaimed upon seeing the blood and the break. "Honey, you're gonna need stitches and... well maybe surgery."

"Surgery!?" 

"Maybe, we'll wait until the x-ray," she gingerly picked up my wrist, starting to clean it up with paper towels. I clenched my teeth with every stroke of her hand, and when she had it cleaned up to the cuts, she pulled out the alcohol wipes. "This is going to hurt, sugar," she said with a frown. "Do you want something to bite down on?" I nodded and she told Michael where to look for some sort of rubber that fit directly into my mouth. It scared me a little. Michael sat back down and folded his hands, the fidgeted and ended up sitting on them. 

She set the wipe down and I hissed out a breath, biting down hard on the rubber. "I know, I know," she hushed me consistently, being gentle while she wiped it down. 

***

I woke up feeling heavy. I pried my eyes open. 

I was in a doctor's office. The doctor was standing to my right, and smiled widely when she noticed that I had woken up. "Good morning sunshine," she greeted. 

"What happened?" I asked groggily, using my hands to push myself into a sitting position. I gasped and stopped when I felt a dull pain in my right hand. When I looked down, there was a black cast on it. 

"You passed out," she informed me with an apologetic smile. "The pain was too much," she shook her head. "We figured your boyfriend would know what you'd want, so we took care of ya while you were still out, just to spare you," she pointed across the room. I glanced over. Was Castiel here?

Michael laid across two chairs, asleep with his coat draped over him like a blanket. 

"He was incredibly helpful," she nodded. "You got a good one, honey, keep him around," she winked. "So you have twenty three stitches and a pretty clean break," she patted my shoulder. "We gave you some pain medication and we've written you a prescription. You won't need surgery, thankfully, but we're going to recommend that you keep the cast on for about eight weeks just to make sure you're all healed up! We've scheduled a check up for you in a few weeks just to make sure nothing is going wrong."

I blink, my eyes still trying to adjust. "What time is it?"

She glanced down at her wrist, "Almost 11pm," she smiled. "We were just going to keep you overnight, because you did lose a lot of blood, but if you feel well enough tonight, and your boyfriend drives you home safe, we can release you," she winked. 

I sighed. I missed Claire's funeral. 

"Uh... okay, uh, yeah I feel fine, I can go tonight," I smiled and nodded. 

"Alright, sweetheart, I'll write up your papers for you and get you your prescription," she assured and walked out, leaving me alone with Michael. When I glanced over he had a single eye open and looked around the room, then opened the other. 

"Man, she would not stop talking," he laughed. 

"Boyfriend?" I asked. 

"That was the only way they would let me stay," he shrugged. "It's cool, though."

"Why didn't you say you were my brother?" 

"They asked to see my ID," he furrowed his eyebrows, sitting up. "I didn't think it would bother you that much."

"It's fine," I sighed, rubbing my left hand over my face. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked. 

"Like shit," I answered honestly. 

Thankfully, the doctor came back within ten minutes and we were able to get out of the hospital quickly, then searched for his car in the giant parking structure for about a half hour. 

"Do you want to get your prescription from a pharmacy right away?" he asked, looking over at me when we finally slid into his car, shivering and holding our hands up to the heaters. 

I shook my head, cradling my broken hand to my chest. It was still throbbing but it just wasn't as stabbing anymore. 

"Alright, you can get it some other time," he shrugged. "But you're going to have to tell me where you live, unless you want to go to Castiel's apartment."

I looked up, out of the windshield. It was snowing again, and the dark sky was weakly illuminated by the street lamps, and seemed altogether more bright than usual because of the snowflakes everywhere. 

Castiel had cheated on me. 

The words didn't hold meaning. I could think them, I could say them out loud and they wouldn't mean a damn thing. 

Castiel had cheated on me. 

Cas cheated on me. 

Cas cheated on me. 

"What?" Michael asked, eyes wide as he slowed for a red light. "He did!?"

I glanced over to him. "Who did what?"

"Castiel cheated on you?!" his eyebrows furrowed. "You two seemed to be in a really good place during your story... is that why you punched the wall?"

"Did I say that out loud?" I asked with a sigh. "Damn."

"Uh, yeah, you did," he chuckled. "I hate to interrupt this conversation but I don't know where I'm going," he admitted. "I need an address, or some sort of direction," he laughed and shrugged. 

"Oh, uh... take the next left then merge onto the highway," I instructed and he nodded, starting forward again just a moment before the light flickered to green. 

"Anyways, he cheated on you?"

"Oh," I answered. "Yep. Yep he did," I shrugged. 

"I- why?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed. "What happened? With who!?"

I shrugged. "With Alex."

"Fuck, I knew he would fuck shit up!" he growled, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. 

My eyes widened at his outburst and I looked him up and down. "You alright there?"

"Oh- yeah- I'm fine. Sorry, I just... I'm sorry I was rooting for you two, and I knew that Alex was going to do something, I just felt it," he sighed, shaking his head. "Wait wait wait, weren't you with Alex last night?" he asked. "What was that about?"

I looked down. "Well... we were planning the funeral... I mean... we had planned on planning the funeral..."

"Oh," he gasped, realization dawning on him. "You spent the night with him... did you two...?" He glanced over and I looked down, nodding. We drove in a tense silence for a few minutes, the highway completely vacant aside from the two of us and one or two other cars whipping past. The silence only grew until Michael gasped again and one of his hands flew up. "WAIT!" he shouted, making me jump again. "Sorry, sorry," he said, touching my knee quickly before lifting his hand again. "Whose funeral were you planning!?" he asked, a panicked look on his face. 

"Oh, right," I sighed. I hadn't gotten to the part about Claire before we got called into the office. "Well, you know how Claire had left us to keep... doing whatever it was that she was doing?" he nodded, glancing between me and the road in front of him. "Well she got into a car accident... I don't know details but I think she was high while she was driving and she didn't make it."

Saying it out loud, dare I say so "casually" just felt wrong. The words rolling off my tongue felt unreal. They felt like a lie. Claire wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. They didn't make an impact on me. I expected that slam in the chest, but it wasn't there. 

"No," he whispered, jaw hanging open as he urged the car a little faster. "You can't... seriously?" I nodded, looking out the window and wiping at the fog with my cast before noticing that I wasn't making any progress. "Oh my- Dean, I am so sorry."

"It's alright, I guess," I shrugged. "Nothing new," I chuckled dryly, knowing there was no other way for me to deal with my current situation. I couldn't burst out in tears in front of Michael, I didn't even know him and I'd already spilled my life story to him. 

This time the amount of dense quiet that filled the car wasn't as uncomfortable. It was almost nice, the fact that neither of us had the guts to say something to the other. I had admitted to him that my boyfriend and I had cheated on each other, and that the only person who made me feel happy again (Claire) had died. He knew too much about me. 

"Do you want to talk about Castiel and Alex?" he finally said quietly. 

I pointed to an exit, "Get off here." He obliged silently, then looked over to me, turning right at my command. "Sure, I guess," I shrugged. 

"Well... go for it," he nodded. "And just give me some notice before I have to turn next time, alright?"

I smiled weakly and nodded. "Well, you know how I said earlier that I had asked Cas if he was cheating on me? He denied it over and over again, and I just... I had believed him. And now, I- obviously- I feel like shit because... Because I slept with Alex. But I was drunk- which I know isn't an excuse- and I... I'm feeling so... emotionless. It's different than how it was when Sam died, though. When Sam died I just felt... numb. It sounds the same, but it's different. One has a hint of pain. There's some sort of pain in numbness, you know? It's like a mask over the pain, but to be emotionless... it's like the pain is just gone. It's obvious that it's supposed to hurt, but... it just doesn't. And I hate feeling that. I hate it, Michael. And it's not an excuse but... it's the only explanation I have. And now I almost feel like I don't even need- oh! Turn left right- ahh- right now, sorry!" I exclaimed, grasping the arm rest with my left hand when he performed a half u-turn half left turn in the empty road. It was now a little after 12:30, so the streets were pretty scarce. He glared at me playfully, but nodded for me to continue. "Right... I almost don't feel like I need an excuse since Castiel cheated on me when everything was going great, you know? Ugh... I don't know, I... I feel guilty but angry at the same time." I looked up at him. "Do you know what I mean?"

He remained quiet, deep in thought for a while, pulling over in front of my house when I quietly told him to do so. He put the car in park and sighed. "I don't know, Dean," he admitted. "I've never cheated on someone before. However," he looked up to meet my eyes. "I have been cheated on," he sighed deeper. "And I can tell you that there will never be that same level of trust again. It's gone, and I promise you, after someone betrays your trust like that... you don't want it back. But I don't know what to tell you about your emotionless situation. I know what you mean, I understand but... I have no advice and I'm... I'm really sorry about that," he rested his hand on my shoulder, still maintaining eye contact. "But I want you to know that if you ever need to talk, I'm here for you. And I will try my best to give you advice or at least an ear to listen to you."

I glanced at his hand and bit my lip before meeting his eyes again. "Thank you, Michael," I nodded once and thought about it for a second. "How can I contact you?" 

I silently cursed and praised myself for asking the question, and I waited while he fumbled around for a pen and a scrap of paper, scribbling his number down for me. "Here, call me, text me... whatever," he shrugged, a goofy smile across his lips. "Whenever."

"Well..." I took the paper. "Thank you, Michael," I repeated, looking into his stormy grey eyes. "For everything. For today especially. I really... I really appreciate it," I smiled. 

"Anytime, Dean," he smiled and winked as I started to get out of the car. "I'll talk to you later?" he asked. 

I nodded once, "Definitely," and closed the door, turning around to face the bunker. I took a deep breath and walked forward.


	30. chapter 30

I hesitated outside the door, my hand on the knob for what seemed like hours. 

How would I approach Cas, especially about the fact that he'd cheated on me and lied to me? Would I call Alex eventually? Castiel was going through a lot, just like I was- he thought Claire's death was his fault. 

But in a way, wasn't it all of our faults?

Finally I just forced myself to push the door open and the minute I reached the line of sight from the kitchen, Claire and David's heads whipped over to look at me. David was leaning against the counter, a mug full of what I assumed was alcoholic in it and Charlie was sitting at the table, a bottle of Bailey's in front of her. She got to her feet immediately upon seeing me and came at me, slapping me across the face. 

I blinked and shook my head in shock. 

"Where the fuck were you today!?" she screamed in my face. "I was counting on you to be there for me, Dean! We were all counting on you!! Where the fuck did you disappear to!?"

I took a step back, trying to hide the thick cast on my arm behind my leg as I stuttered out a response, "I-my-uh- I was- Alex and I- we- I went to the hospital and I-"

She lifted her arms and pushed me with more force than I expected and I stumbled back. "How dare you!? Claire loved you so much and you- just- you abandoned her! This was her funeral, Dean! This was the last chance you had to make things right with her and you go- what? You go get drunk and end up in a fucking hospital for what!? For alcohol poisoning? God dammit Dean, I want to slam your head against the wall!" she lifted her hand again and this time David came up behind her and grabbed her arms from behind, pulling her back against his chest. Her face crumbled and tears gathered in her eyes as she turned around to clutch him. 

He glared at me from over her head, shaking his menacingly. I looked away as he lead Charlie out of the room and walked over to the table to find my phone sitting on the corner where I had left it. I unlocked it to find 27 missed calls and 43 messages. None of them were from Castiel, only from David and a few from Alex. I was still disgusted with not only him, but myself as well. I couldn't believe his complete and utter lack of remorse for tearing Cas and I apart, even if it hadn't happened yet. 

I waited impatiently at the table, taking gulps of the Bailey's with anticipation while David took his sweet time doing whatever he was doing with Charlie. 

A few mere moments later he walked calmly out of the hallway and met my eyes angrily. "Dean, I don't want to be angry with you, okay?" he said as he sat across from me. His eyes were trained on mine, not breaking contact once. "But it's obvious that I am. I just need to know why, after everything, you ditched out on us last night and for Claire's funeral. I would have been more... understanding if you'd shown up to the service, but you didn't. And there's an obvious problem with that. Charlie's right, Dean. You and Claire left each other on bad terms, and this was your time to make peace with her. You didn't come. Why? I just... I want to know why, Dean."

I looked away, unable to gaze at his pleading eyes for a moment longer. How could he be so patient with me? I had let him down completely and yet he was still calm and collected...

I looked down to my cast and lifted it a little for him to see. He gasped, eyebrows furrowed in a silent question. I looked away. "I went by Alex's house last night," I said quietly, looking back up to him despite my mind's protests. He nodded; he had already known that. "And... we- stuff ended up- I don't know how- but- and we- I don't..." I buried my head in my hands. "I don't know how it happened. I was drunk and-"

"And you slept with him," he nodded, keeping eye contact. "He told me."

"He did?"

That was not his place! How could he?

"Yeah, and he apologized a lot," he shrugged. 

"Did he tell Cas?" I asked, panic rising in me. 

"No," he shook his head. "Don't worry about precious Cas, he cheated on you, too," he grimaced. "You two are fucking disgusting."

"David, I-"

"No, Dean, save it," he put up a hand. "I don't want to hear it right now, really I don't. You trying to justify this is just going to make you seem worse and worse, okay? It's none of my business anyways, I'm not the one who cheated on my Castiel. Or you," he seemed to add as an afterthought. 

"Please, David, I didn't mean to, I had no intentions of doing that," I promised. "I immediately regretted it! Then I found out Cas did it and I just- I still feel bad, but now I'm angry, too."

"Yeah, well, you can go talk to Cas, he's in your room still," he sighed. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was trashed. I would have trashed it if I was him."

He stood up with that and walked back to his room. Or Charlie's. I didn't know. 

It was more of a mess than I'd ever imagined it would fan out to be. I'd already realized that I would be going head to head with Cas, but I didn't know Charlie and David would end up angry with me as well. Or that Alex would be the one to play the victim in all of this and make me seem an even worse person than I already looked. 

I walked to my room slowly, trying to buy myself as much time as possible before I had to face him. I had to practically force myself to open the door, and the moment I did I was met with the grief-stricken eyes of the man I was in love with, sitting on the edge of my bed.

The man who had raised me up and helped me back into the real world. The man who had slowly and surely healed the wounds caused by the death of my brother. The man who had lied to me countless times, who had cheated on me. The man I couldn't seem to let go. 

His blue eyes were narrowed, and tears were gathered in them. He looked guilty and defeated all at once, and I realized that he wasn't angry. My room wasn't trashed, my things were all perfectly in place. He was still wearing dress clothes from the funeral. I had abandoned him, made him attend the funeral of a girl he had tried to pull up, a girl he had struggled with since the beginning, but had failed. I made him sit in his own remorse for her and let his emotions stew. Not only did I have cheating on him to feel bad for, but now this. 

I didn't know what to apologize for first. 

"Cas, I-"

He just shook his head. "Don't," he whispered. 

"Please, baby, I-" I knelt in front of him so we were at eye level. 

"Don't," he repeated. "Don't call me that, Dean, please, don't."

I placed my hands on his knees and tried to say anything to make it easier on him. "Castiel, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry- for everything, okay? Please, just- I'm so sorry," I said over and over. 

"Dean, no," he said quietly. "You can't do that. This- whatever is happening here- this isn't okay, you get that, right? What you did- what I did, that's not okay. The fact that we both did it to each other doesn't make it any better."

I furrowed my eyebrows, "No, no, I know it doesn't."

"Well good, because then you know that this can't go on," he said, placing his hands over mine and looking down at them. 

"W-what?" I stuttered out. "What are you saying? Cas?"

"I think you know what I'm saying, Dean," he admitted, looking back up at me. 

"No, Cas are you... are you saying we should break up?" I shook my head. "No, no, baby," I put my hands on his face. "We can do this we can get through this."

He laughed humorlessly and stood up, me following after a moment later. "Dean, you do know that I cheated on you and lied to you countless times right?! Why would you want to be with me? Why would I want to be with someone who lies to me, too?"

I furrowed my eyebrows, unable to make a valid argument as to why we should stay together. "Cas, I-" I shook my head. "I love you, you can't- we can't break up."

"Look," he said softly, putting his hands on my shoulders. "Dean, I love you, too. More than anything. But this isn't healthy, okay?"

"Castiel, no- it was only once, it was a mistake-"

He let out a laugh and pushed my hands off his shoulders, "Is that what he told you? That it was only once?" 

I blinked, taking an abrupt step back from him. "What?"

"Dean, this wasn't a one time thing," he assured me, his eyebrows furrowed. "We've been sleeping together for months," he leaned his head to the side. "Did he not tell you that?" 

I was at a complete loss for words. 

The complete and utter apathy with which he spoke these words seemed to stab my in the stomach, the knife twisting slowly and surely. "Are you... kidding me?" I asked with a shake of my head. 

"Baby, I have loved you this whole time, believe me," he promised, closing the distance between us. "Always, I swear... but eventually you I couldn't carry the weight of both of us combined. You know I have problems at work, and you've had Sam to care for, then Claire, and I... I don't know, Dean, but it's probably smarter if we go back to being platonic... or just.... done," he shrugged, looking a mixture of defeated and completely emotionless. I couldn't tell if it was from Claire's death and funeral, or if he really just couldn't empathize with me. "Plus, you cheated on me too, just last night. That hurts me... I know I have no right to feel hurt that you did this to me, but I feel it. It's not healthy, baby... we can't do it anymore. I won't do it anymore. With Alex or you."

I was left speechless as he put a hand on either side of my face, trying to gauge a reaction. "Castiel, I don't... I don't even...." I struggled to get any words out. I could barely understand what he was saying, much less come up with a response. 

"You don't have to say anything, Dean, okay?" He rubbed his thumbs over my cheeks. "But know that I do love you, and I regret doing this to you," he shook his head, blinking away tears. He was so hot and cold I barely knew where his stance on this was. Seeming to surprise both him and myself, he leaned forward to kiss me hard. I immediately let my hands latch onto his hips, anger and love both fighting for dominance in my chest. 

If this was going to end, our little drama, I wanted to get one last kiss to say goodbye to him. I could be angry and hate him later, but this... this was the end. 

So I let my lips part and walked forward until his back hit my bedroom door with a thud. He gasped giving me room to let my tongue wander into his mouth. He hummed softly, letting his hands travel down my chest. In the heat of the moment, I took his wrists with my good hand and pressed them against the door above his head, earning a moan from him. 

He leaned forward when I broke the kiss, trying to make the most of the final moments of our relationship. 

But I wasn't about to end it that fast. I wanted it to last, too. 

Sure it might not be healthy to let something this big stretch out for a long time, but I needed. We both seemed to need it. 

I let his lips touch mine, not kissing him back for a few moments while my thoughts consumed me. 

His lips, the lips I loved so much, had been on Alex's. 

I kissed him harder, furrowing my eyebrows.

Mine had, too. 

Only hours ago. 

I dropped his hands to put my hands around his thighs, letting his legs wrap around my hips and his hands pull at my hair. 

"I love you, Dean," he whispered against my lips. 

"Shh," I responded. I didn't want to think about him loving me when he did this to me. I didn't want to think about him loving me when I did the same to him. 

I just wanted to feel his mouth pressed hotly against my own. I wanted to focus on his legs around my waist one more time. 

"No, Dean, please," he pulled back, dropping from my grasp to stand and look into my eyes. "I do, okay? I love you."

"Cas, don't," I shook my head, letting hands hang at my sides. 

"Baby-"

"No!"

"Dean, ple-"

"Get out," I shook my head again, pointing to the door and taking a few steps away from him to give him room to open the door and leave. 

"Just let me say this-"

"No, Castiel! I want you out now, okay? Leave. Now," I opened the door for him, gesturing for him to walk through it. 

"Are you kidding me, Dean?" he laughed. 

"No, get. The fuck. Out. Of. My. House," I tilted my head to the side. 

"Why are you being so passive aggresiv-"

"GET OUT!" 

He shook his head now, storming out of the room. I stayed in the same place until I heard the front door slam shut, too, my hand remaining on the doorknob. 

Eventually, after a few moments of silence, David approached me, standing in the doorway. 

"Did you break up with him?" he asked softly. 

I looked up into his eyes and nodded. "I guess... he's been cheating on me all this time."

"Dean, I'm sorry," he shook his head, placing a hand on my shoulder. I glanced at it, shrugging. "I'm going to take Charlie out for a little while, okay?" I nodded. "Give you some time to yourself." He patted my shoulder once more, then turned around to get her and leave. 

I turned and sat on the edge of my bed, looking down at the floor, feeling the weight of my cast on my knee where it rested. 

I heard the door close again, and this time, I stood up. 

I needed a drink. 

I made my way into the kitchen slowly, hearing for the first time in a long time, all the boards creak under my feet. When I got to the fridge I let out a sigh, running a hand through my hair angrily. 

I had told myself to be mad at Castiel once he had left, and fuck it, I was mad. 

I wasn't angry that he had slept with Alex once. I was angry that he'd been doing it behind my back for what happened to be months. And the fact that he had lied to me time and time again about doing it. I was just about to pull the door open when something caught my eye. 

Something I had forgotten ever existed. My grip on the handle tightened while I read it. 

"I'm headed to the rink with Castiel. Don't know where you guys are, but wish me luck!" 

I furrowed my eyebrows, blinking away the angry tears biting at the back of my eyes. I wanted to punch something. I couldn't, obviously, considering the fact that I was already crippled from being unable to control my anger earlier that day. So instead I pressed my lips together and pulled out a carton of the first thing I saw in the fridge- orange juice. 

I didn't hesitate to pour it into a mug, about half way, then let the other half fill up with vodka. I sighed, leaving both the containers open on the counter. I turned around and walked back to my room, not knowing what exactly to do. 

I felt as though I was drowning in my guilt. 

Claire was gone, and now there was no way for me to prove how much I cared about her, how sorry I was for abandoning her. How I wouldn't even be here right now if it wasn't for her. 

I took a large drink of the concoction in my mug and sat on the edge of my bed, resting the cup on my bedside table with a loud clang. 

I sat there for what felt like hours before acting on a whim and pulling open the drawer to my bedside table, where an old iPhone sat solemnly among all the other objects in it. I tilted my head to the side. 

It had been months since I'd even thought about Sam's phone. The last thing that had happened on it was Gabriel calling to tell me what had happened with Claire. 

I pulled it out, sliding the drawer shut after it. The moment I unlocked it, I was greeted with the Recordings app. 

I had been listening to Sam's old essay before Gabriel had called. 

I barely remembered anything from it, other than the fact that it was called The Choice of Love. 

Did I even want to think about it at a time like that?

Sam was the only person at that moment who would have been able to console me at a time like that, so... despite my better judgement, I pressed play on the recording, immediately remembering why I'd stopped it in the first place. 

"-Dean Winchester. My brother.

He is the best man I know. And he doesn't need anyone beside him to be as incredible as he is. But I want him to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted for Dean, just happiness. I'm not certain love would be a good choice for him, but I know for sure, he's never considered it as an option for himself. He only lets select people into his life, and even then, everyone is merely platonic. But despite his lack of an intimate life, he's caring, empathetic, loving and strong. He is so strong. 

Dean Winchester has dealt with so much in his life and... shit."

There was a long pause, and some light sniffling. My mouth hung open. 

"And he doesn't deserve everything that's happened to him. He doesn't deserve to have dealt with so much loss and heartbreak, which is why he keeps to himself so much. Why he's... why he is so protective of me, of our cousins. Of our friends. I, myself have been unable to deal with so much loss. Not the way he can. I need... god dammit. I need..."

There was a soft thudding noise, then shuffling around before Sam's voice said, "Yeah?" 

"Sammy?" there was a clicking noise. "Are you alright in here?"

"Yeah, Dean- I- I'm good. Uh... did you want me to proof-read something for you?" his voice asked again. 

"Oh, yeah I just finished a new story, it's about-"

The recording ended there. I remembered that day. I remembered those exact moments, when I'd heard soft sobs from the other side off the wall. I'd wanted to distract him from whatever was making him cry. 

I had been editing a piece of work. The piece of work he and Bobby were working on getting published for me. 

I reached up to rub my eyes and found them wet already, along with my cheeks. 

Sam had always loved my stories, ever since we were kids. He was always my biggest fan, always encouraging me to write. 

I reached for the mug and drank more of it, then tossed his phone to the other side of the bed and lifted my laptop from the floor. 

I opened a new Word document and sat there looking at it for a while. I had no idea what to write. No idea what Sammy would want me to write. 

I tried to come up with stories of fiction, mysteries, anything. 

I filled page upon page with words and characters and intricate plots. 

But I ended up deleting them every time. 

Hours later, after David and Charlie had gotten home, I still sat there, frozen with my computer on my lap, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

It was 2am when they finally came down on the letters, printing out the first phrase that seemed right after all the hours of nothingness:

"I didn't quite know what I was expecting the day he died."

*** 2 years later***

Claire's gravestone is covered in a thick moss across the sides and the bottom. 

I'm sat in front of it, my knees brought up to my chest, arms crossed over my legs. It's her birthday. She would have been 18 today. 

"We finally made it," I say softly, shifting so my legs are crossed, my hands folded in my lap. "You can move out legally now," I laugh quietly. "We've been waiting for so long. The years were tedious, I'll tell you that," I nod, smiling fondly at the stone. "You can move in with us, it would be so fun... I mean... I'm moved out of the bunker now, so it would be a change of scenery, but you'd really like our new apartment. We'e been together for almost two years now, which is... crazy," I laugh. "We're engaged and we live in a penthouse. I'm a best selling author, now..." I rock back a little, running my fingers through the grass. "I miss you, y'know... I miss you all the time. In the little things, mostly. Like... like whenever I see a lake or a pond, I think of how you saved me. You were gonna go out ice-skating, but instead you saw some crazy man drowning in your back yard," I laugh, tears gathering into my eyes. "I'm glad I did though, because if I wouldn't have, then you would've and no one would have been there to save you," I reach up and wipe the tear rolling down my cheek. 

"I'm sorry I haven't talked to you in a while, I've been super busy. I've had book signings and tours and a bunch of shit... although I guess that's not an excuse," I shrug, ripping out a handful of grass. "I don't know if I have an excuse," I admit. "But I do know that I was scared," I nod, letting tears fall freely now. "I still am scared. I'm scared of confronting you because... because I've let you down so many times. I let you down with- with Alex. I let you down when Cas and I broke up," I bite deep into my lower lip. "I let you down before that, though. When I let you go. I let you down when you started up again. I let you down when I didn't come to your funeral... I've just... I've failed you so many times, Claire and I- I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. But... I.." I wipe my eyes again, pulling the box out of my pocket. "I got you something. I'm sure some asshole will take it, but I'll leave it here for you. I know I never got to see you skate live, but I've seen you online. You never told me you'd won nationals," I chuckle, opening the box to see the bracelet inside. It had diamonds around the wrist of it, then a small pair of ice skates dangling in the center. "It's just a little something. I brought a house key, too, so you know you're always welcome... and... happy birthday, Claire." I look at the engraving on her stone, setting the box in front of it. Under her name, there was a thoughtful inscription, one I'm sure Alex and Castiel picked out. It says: Beloved Sister, Savior and Light of Lives. 

I sit for a few minutes longer before feeling a strong hand on my shoulder. I look up to see Michael standing next to me, looking down at the gravestone. "I'm sorry," he says softly. I reach up to place my hand on top of his, then wipe my face. 

When I stand up beside him, he cups my cheek, wiping a tear from my face with his thumb. He leans forward to kiss me gently, then says, "Let's go home."

I nod, intertwining my fingers with his as we walk back to the car. "I love you," I tell him with a small smile. 

He opens my door for me, leaning down and kissing me again before replying, "I love you, too."

THE END


End file.
